


Present Twists To Fated Futures

by Tempest_Raining



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Dumbledore's Bullshit), Albus Dumbledore's "Greater Good", Alternate Ending, Arcturus Black Doesn't Like Sirius But He Likes Voldemort Even Less, Azkaban, Azkaban Sucks, BAMF Sirius Black, Dementors, Dementors Suck, First War with Voldemort, Godric's Hollow, He Does Kinda Respect Sirius Though, Hurt Sirius Black, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, James and Lily Are Gryffindors Who Don't Follow the Plan, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Marauders, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Protective James Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Sirius Black in Azkaban, Sirius Black is a Good Friend, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, Sirius Saves Them, Sirius is a Damn Good Godfather, Sirius is a good bro, Some Issues Are and Will Remain Unresolved, The Cruciatus Sucks, Time Turner (Harry Potter), which is a good thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tempest_Raining/pseuds/Tempest_Raining
Summary: Some outcomes are pre-destined. That's what happens when prohecies are a thing. But some things can change and we can always throw our own spins on the present if we're clever, or quick or prepared enough.The prophecy ensured that the confrontation had to happen, but the attack on Godric's Hollow didn't have to end the way it did.





	1. Chapter 1

Something wasn’t right.

“Peter!? Peter, open up!”

 _No,_ Sirius Black thought as he knocked on his friend’s door for the third time, _something definitely isn’t right._

“Peter? Peter, I’m coming in! _Alohomora!_ ”

Sirius only narrowly avoided using a blasting curse to throw the door off its hinges, so panicked was he of what he might find in Peter’s flat.

\---------------

Sirius had been planning on going deep into hiding today, to play the part of someone with something to hide and to continue to let Voldemort’s forces believe that he was Lily and James’ Secret Keeper. That had been something that James was adamant on when he had told his best friend his plan to keep the heat off Peter and make sure the other wasn’t targeted. Sirius had protested at first, believing that to be a waste of resources as he wasn’t _actually_ the Secret Keeper, so it wouldn’t matter if he was caught and they would just be denying the Order a much-needed soldier. Lily had been the one to point out that if he didn’t go into hiding himself then it would be far more likely that the Death Eaters would figure out the ruse, and they might decide to target others, like Peter, McGonagall or Frank and Alice, and although he knew that Lily was just trying to convince him to protect himself, he had to agree with her logic.

After, that is, he had endured the twenty-minute vehement rant that James had subjected him to for referring to himself as a ‘resource’.

\---------------

“Peter are you here!?” Sirius could barely hear his own urgent calls over the panicked beating of his heart as he searched the flat for his absent friend.

\---------------

Sirius’ plan had involved holing up in one of his Uncle Alphard’s properties in Oxford for a few days, just to ensure that he was nearby in case the misdirection didn’t work, and someone figured out that Sirius wasn’t the Secret Keeper, or they decided to target the other Order members anyway. He would check on Peter after the third day, just to make sure the other was alright, before moving to London with a fake identity. After that (and unknown to James, since Sirius knew that he would disapprove greatly) he was planning on joining in the war efforts from the city and seeing how many Death Eaters he would be able to take out from there.

\---------------

“Peter! Where are you!?”

\---------------

Only James, Lily and Peter were aware of his intentions (minus the last part), and he had made them promise not to tell anyone. Due to the fact that they were aware of there being a traitor in the Order, it wasn’t as hard as he had thought it would be. They hadn’t even argued when he told them not to tell Remus, considering not only how difficult it would be to even tell him in the first place since he was constantly infiltrating Dark werewolf packs as a spy and it wasn’t exactly something they could inform him of over an owl, but also because it would be a lot more dangerous for the other Marauder to know and it would be safer for the spy if he had one less secret to carry and potentially be tortured for. In fact, the only person that they had fought him on leaving out of the plan was Dumbledore.

 _(“You don’t trust Dumbledore!?” Lily gave her husband a **look**_ _at his incredulous outburst, but by her silence Sirius knew that she agreed with him._

_He pressed his fingers to his eyes tiredly, “It’s not that I don’t trust him… I just don’t think it’s a good idea to let too many people know. Secrets shared too many times have a way of getting out.”_

_“Yeah but come on. Dumbledore: Leader of the Light, the one person Voldemort fears.”_

_“Exactly. Dumbledore is a political genius, a war hero and a respected and powerful figure in the wizarding world. Voldemort doesn’t just fear him. He **respects** him. Because Dumbledore is everything that he wanted to be; he’s almost **god** -like in our world. And,” Sirius sighed, “that’s why he’s so dangerous. He’s an absolute master of manipulation. He sees the battle on a level no one else can; he gets a shrewd idea of what the enemy is up to and he can predict their next five moves and at least six motives. He manoeuvres players in times of peace, so they are positioned to the greatest advantage during times of war. He can see the value in people no one else can; he sees the potential they have and what they can become so he gives them the fair opportunity they deserve, and in doing so he gains their trust, loyalty and respect.” Sirius paused what had become an impassioned speech, thinking about Remus, before heaving a sigh and continuing in a softer voice._

_“Dumbledore is a great man who does great things - and even **good** things, when he can – but he knows **exactly** what he is doing with every decision he makes. His number one priority is the ‘greater good’, and I’m not denying his success in that, but I don’t trust him to always look after the people on the smaller scale. He’ll do what he can, but he won’t ever risk the future he’s trying to create for them.”_

_Sirius waited while a shocked Lily and James absorbed what he had said and absently wondered if they were surprised by his insight or surprised by **his** insight. A cry from Harry a few moments later broke everyone from their thoughts and Lily immediately moved to comfort the infant, bringing him over to the two men while gently bumping him up and down until he settled. Sirius watched James watch Lily who watched Harry who was reaching for a loose lock of Lily’s hair – no doubt to once again try and suck on it – and he knew that the two parents were thinking about what his words could mean for their son._

_“Alright.”_

_Sirius blinked as Lily unexpectedly spoke, her eyes still on Harry._

_“Sorry?”_

_“We don’t tell Dumbledore,” now she looked up as she explained, and Sirius noted that her brilliant green eyes were brighter than usual. “We don’t tell anyone. Not unless we have to.”_

_Still surprised, Sirius didn’t say anything until James huffed a laugh. “Yeah, but Pads, we’ve **got** to talk more about what you think Dumbledore’s up to at some point. I had no idea you were that insightful,” he teased at the end._

_Sirius gave his signature smirk, casting off the part of him that had been cultured by his years of living with the Blacks in exchange for the Marauder within, “Well, one of us has to be. We can’t all afford to be idiots.”_

_He continued to smirk as his best friend, who was another brother to him, gave a bark of laughter and his wife, who was like the sister he’d never had, softly chuckled while their son, who was his godson, nephew and pup all in one, giggled at the sounds of his parents’ joy, before James, unable to let that go unanswered, began a long, banter-filled debate on who the bigger idiot was that lasted well into the morning.)_

\---------------

“Peter?” Sirius called one last time, his voice softer as it finally sunk in that the other was not there to answer.

 _Something isn’t right,_ Sirius thought again, and he tried to force himself to calm down and look around the flat deliberately. It was then that he noticed it, and, all of a sudden, he began see what he and everyone else had missed for months.

_Something is very, very wrong._

\---------------

It was on the morning of the 31st of October - the morning of the third day of his plan - that Sirius had begun to feel uneasy. They had cast the Fidelius charm as soon as they could, less than a week prior, and Sirius had spent the few days he’d had before hiding out at one of his uncle’s houses tying up any loose ends he needed to and preparing for his move to London as stealthily as possible. Sirius hadn’t been sure where these feelings of tenseness had come from, as he hadn’t anticipated feeling them until he was about to leave for the city.

Unnerved, and with too much experience as a soldier in a civil war, a Hit Wizard under Alastor Moody, a prankster and Marauder at Hogwarts, and a Gryffindor in a Slytherin household, he had been unable to dismiss his instincts as paranoia. That had led to him sweeping his own apartment for any enchantments on the off chance that his location had been found and booby-trapped or bugged, mentally running through every interaction he’d had in the previous week to see if he could remember anything off about any of them and re-evaluating his plan to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

By the time the blue sky outside had begun to turn pink and orange he still hadn’t found anything to account for his unease, but, if anything, that had only made him feel more nervous. Glancing agitatedly out a window at the darkening sky, Sirius had decided to move his schedule forward and check first on Peter, then James and Lily, early. He hadn’t planned on leaving the house initially until it was well into he night and he had the cover of darkness, but with his instincts flaring the way they were, Sirius had decided that the early evening of quarter-to-five in October would have to do.

For once cursing the precaution they had taken of setting up anti-apparition wards at both his friends’ locations, Sirius had been grateful that he hadn’t yet done anything to his beloved – yet easily recognisable – motorcycle. Due to its uniqueness, Sirius had known that he wouldn’t be able to take it to London, as it would be a risk to his cover, but he had been loath to get rid of it and had decided to deal with it last, just before he left for the final time.

Thankful for that decision, Sirius had soon set off into the sky, travelling quickly yet cautiously to Wormtail’s flat and hoping to the Founders, Merlin, God, St Nicholas, Led Zeppelin and any other deity he could think of – be they magical or muggle – that everything was alright.

\---------------

This couldn’t be right. Not Peter. In fact, there were probably hundreds of other explanations for why Peter’s flat was empty of both Peter and any signs of a struggle. He could be making his own last-minute preparations before going into hiding, or maybe something had come up and he was doing something with the Order, after all, they didn’t know of the switch in Secret Keepers, so they wouldn’t realise that he should be in hiding in the first place.

 _If it were something that simple he would have left me a note,_ a traitorous voice whispered in his mind, forcing him to consider a darker option (but one that was still preferable to the other possible conclusion he had drawn – that one he wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ even consider of his friend just yet, not until he had exhausted all other options).

Maybe the Death Eaters had found out about the switch or had just decided to go after an Order member and known friend of Lily and James’ in the hopes that he would be able to give them their location. They could have found out where Peter lived in any number of ways and set up an ambush to catch him unawares. That was feasible, since, as much as he loved his friend, Sirius knew that Peter didn’t possess the instinct for danger and almost paranoid spatial awareness that he and Remus both had, nor James’ sheer dumb luck, as Minnie would say. Peter might have been captured before he’d even known it, and that was why the flat didn’t look out of the ordinary.

But… Perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps Peter had left his flat of his own free will. Perhaps… A large part of Sirius hated himself for even _considering_ this, but he couldn’t deny that it was a possibility.

Perhaps Peter was the traitor.

As soon as he’d allowed himself to truly consider the thought, Sirius knew that he was right. Call it instinct, or intuition, but as soon as the thought took hold he began making connections between many a suspicious circumstance or death in the Order that they’d never been able to account for and his dear friend and fellow Marauder. Caradoc. The failed ambush on Moody. Benjy. Marlene and her family. Several failed missions that Wormtail had been privy to.

Sirius allowed himself a moment to mourn for the friend he’d thought he’d had before a _harrowing_ realisation struck him like thunder and his muscles seized for a moment in his horror.

_Prongs, Lils and little Harry._


	2. Chapter 2

_“What do you think you are doing here, boy!?”_

_Sirius calmly looked up at an enraged Arcturus Black III, head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and Sirius’ grandfather._

_“I’m here to borrow some books.”_

_The two stared at each other in silence, a conversation and battle of wills all playing behind their eyes in the long, dank, embellished hallway of the house that the older man resided in, alone except for his tomes, Dark artefacts and the occasional house elf. After a long moment, Arcturus spoke again, however Sirius knew better than to think he had won much of a victory as of yet._

_“You, blood-traitor, have some nerve coming here into my home. What makes you think that I would give a disgrace of my blood, such as you, any aid?”_

_There was another pause after his grandfather had spoken as the two wizards scrutinised each other, searching for weakness in countenance. Sirius didn’t need to gather his thoughts before he spoke, already knowing what he was going to say to the Black patriarch._

_“I know how this House operates,” Sirius began, surely and more sincerely than he would have liked. He didn’t miss the way Arcturus’ eyes narrowed as soon as he began speaking. “I know exactly what you believe, and I have always been disgusted by it. I have no love for this ‘family’ of inbred bigots, and you certainly hold none for me, a disowned, muggle-loving grandson.” Sirius paused to let what he was saying sink in, “But I’m not here to talk about the personal values we live by.”_

_“Then what do you want, boy?” Arcturus’ deep voice hadn’t lost any of its hardness, but Sirius was able to detect a gleam of curiosity in it, as he had known he would. Out of respect for that, and as a token of goodwill, Sirius decided not to beat around the bush too much with his point._

_“I need access to your library; the one with the real Dark magic. I need it so that I can figure out more of what we’re up against; so that we can stand a chance to take out Voldemort, and hopefully dismantle some of his regime.”_

_“And why would I help you do that?” Arcturus asked leisurely and this time Sirius didn’t wait to answer._

_“Long-term survival. And revenge. You have no heirs, Arcturus. Orion and Regulus are dead. Cygnus won’t be far behind with that curse on him and he only had daughters – and while I’m sure Bellatrix would **love** to head the family, according to your sexist traditions, women cannot be the Head of House. After you die, the House of Black loses the strength of its purity and unless Bella or Narcissa ever have a son, it will die completely. Not that I think it will be a particularly great loss for wizarding kind, but that’s not the point.”_

_“And how will aiding in the destruction of the Dark Lord preserve the line of Black?” One of Arcturus’ brows lifted in slight curiosity._

_“It won’t,” Sirius said instantly. “There’s nothing I could do to continue the line even if I wanted to, and Voldemort’s death would hardly change the fact that you have no male heir. No, I was referring to the survival of all.”_

_“I don’t care about the survival of all.”_

_“Oh, believe me, I am aware of that,” Sirius barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t quite stop the derision leaking into his voice. “No, I know the only things you care about are blood purity, power and family. I bet you were just as **proud** as dear old mum and dad were when Regulus joined up with that **sadist**. A sixteen-year-old boy and the future ‘Lord Black’ - after you and Orion would kick the bucket - not even out of school and he’d joined a cult built on ignorance and supremacy that was known for torturing and murdering people that it saw as different or who didn’t conform.” Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down before continuing in a blanker voice, “I know that while neither you nor my parents ever loved me, you both loved Regulus. And I also know that you know why he died.”_

_Sirius’ younger brother had always been their parents’ child, lapping up every vile bit of bigotry they spouted. He had been their perfect son, someone who was able to make up for the disgrace Sirius had turned out to be. A good little Slytherin who had taken the snakes’ values of blood purity and supremacy over other species to heart._

_So for Regulus to have been killed on Voldemort’s orders, as Sirius knew he must have been, he must have finally found something too evil for even him to follow. And Sirius knew that the older man in front of him was shrewd enough to know that as well._

_He was proven right when Arcturus didn’t reply._

_“Voldemort may support your supremist views and you may agree with the majority of his actions, but you and I both know that he’s insane. He returns no loyalty that is given to him, and he isn’t motivated by a vision of a world with whatever you think is better for wizard kind. He just wants power, however he can get it, and he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way. He’ll be the death of everyone – muggle, blood-traitor and pureblood alike – just like he was the death of Regulus and the future of this House.”_

_When Sirius finished he had another stare-down with his grandfather, only this time he knew that Arcturus was assessing his words rather than his face – searching for reason and logic rather than lies or weakness. Sirius held the other man’s gaze steadily, waiting for the verdict in the dim light of the dark hallway. He wasn’t able to read the Black patriarch’s thoughts from his face, the older man having had far too much experience in the snake pit that was the politics of the Dark families and the Slytherin house to show something so telling as emotion, but he knew when Arcturus had made a decision because he blinked for the first time in minutes._

_“None of the books are to leave my study. You have three days to research what you can and then I never want you to set foot in this house again.”_

_Sirius nodded in acceptance of the terms and waited silently for Arcturus to finish._

_“I will never accept the disgrace you have brought on my family, and I will never support your decision to consort with those mudbloods and blood-traitors you call friends, but if there is one thing you are right about it is that the Dark Lord is an issue that needs to be taken care of. Find what you need and pray it gives you a solution, but I will offer no other help after this.”_

_Sirius nodded once more and turned immediately in the direction of his grandfather’s study, only to freeze mid-stride as Arcturus’ voice demanded his attention once more._

_“I am curious to know, however, what prompted this sudden need for Dark knowledge. It was my understanding that you intended to never set foot on any Black property again after you left. Something significant indeed must have happened to convince you to make this visit, even if it is the best place to seek the kinds of knowledge the Dark Lord possesses.”_

_Sirius was silent for a moment, bittersweet thoughts plaguing his mind as he thought back to the bliss of the last week. Knowing that sharing the information wouldn’t cause any harm to himself or anyone he cared about as it was already mostly common knowledge, Sirius decided to tell the truth._

_“Three days ago, I met Harry Potter,” Sirius said, ignoring the weight of his grandfather’s gaze. “He’s a beautiful baby. Precious. His parents made me his godfather, and when James put him in my arms… Well, I suppose you could say that I realised that I had something worth coming here for. The longer this war goes on, the more likely it is that Harry will have to grow up in the terror of a world built to foster pain and death. I will do **anything** to make sure that doesn’t happen.”_

_Without another word, Sirius continued on his path through the Dark house towards the study, not caring if Arcturus understood what he meant or that he was willingly surrounded by the past that he had spent his life trying to escape._

\---------------

_VARRrroooooooooom VARrroooooOOOOOMMm_

The sound of Sirius’ beloved motorcycle filled the cloudless evening night, but while its rider usually revelled in the excited growls the vehicle made, that Halloween night he was too caught up in his cycle of horror to even notice. Jaw locked and hands clenching the handle bars so tight that the entire back of his hand was white with the pressure, Sirius sped through the night towards Godric’s Hollow, heedless to any potential dangers to himself as his focus was utterly limited to simply reaching his friends before it was too late. His eyes were set unwaveringly on the horizon in the most direct path to the Potters’ home, as if he could cover the distance quicker if he kept his gaze ahead of himself.

Later, Sirius wouldn’t remember the flight. Even as it happened, he wasn’t exactly _aware_ of it anyway. No, all he knew – and all he would be able to recall later – was a string of words tumbling through his mind faster than should have been possible. All words that he associated with the three people he was so desperately racing to.

_Prongs. Brother. Lily. Godson. Best friend. Sister. Prongslet. Pup. Harry. James. Potters. Family. Marauders. Home. Partner. Mate. Child. Son. Flower. Nephew. Lils. Deer. Friend. Stag. Sibling. Legacy. James. Lily. Harry. Prongs. Lils. Prongslet._

\---------------

**_Bang!_ **

_Sirius flinched at the unexpected noise and less than a moment later he was in a fighter’s stance, his wand drawn and pointed in the direction that the disturbance had come from… only to be immediately lowered again with a tired sigh when he realised that the pile of books he’d stacked precariously over the last four hours had finally given into gravity and had fallen from their position on the edge of Arcturus’ desk. Sirius stared at the fallen heap of books for a moment before waving his wand and magically re-stacking them in the centre of his grandfather’s desk, next to another five similar piles._

_Looking at the books, Sirius wasn’t sure whether to be glad that he’d managed to get through so many in two days or sickened because he’d managed to get through so many in two days. He had been right in coming to Arcturus Black’s house it seemed, as the man owned an impressively large collection of Dark books, containing all sorts of horrific knowledge – some of which had even been enough to give him – with his Black upbringing - pause as he flicked through the chapters, searching for anything that might have caught Voldemort’s attention._

_Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a lot more than he had hoped, and it didn’t take him long to work out a note-taking system. He wrote down the names of any spells, potions or rituals he came across that he figured Voldemort might find a use for, taking more in-depth notes on the Darker, **sicker** things he found, since it would be a lot more unlikely that he’d be able to find any books covering the subjects anywhere else. Otherwise, he just took down the names, any basic information, what they could be used for and how to counter them. He was able to keep himself going by reminding himself of how invaluable this information could be to the Order and for countering Voldemort._

_But even with that for motivation, Sirius still found himself pushed to his limits after two days of staring at grotesque diagrams and reading passages depicting the most gruesome, nauseating things that human beings had done both to others and to themselves in their quests for power, revenge or immortality. It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten a morsel since arriving at the Black house, his appetite non-existent in the representation of his worst memories, or that he’d barely slept, only passing out over the desk for five hours from exhaustion._

_Blinking himself out of his stupor, Sirius sighed again before digging his palms into his eyelids and roughly dragging his fingers through his long, raven – and currently tangled – hair, in a futile effort to wake himself up. **Merlin, I need to sleep. And I should probably eat something at some point soon.**_

_Sirius let his – probably bloodshot – eyes slide shut for a moment, revelling in the way that soothed them for a moment, before reluctantly forcing them back open and stretching his muscles. Determined to continue making the most of the time he still had, he picked up the next book on the shelf – a book about Dark wards and rituals – and continued on with the long, laborious process of taking notes._

_At some point, less than twenty minutes later, he was glad he had as he came across a page that interested him immensely. Eyes slightly widened as he read, and now feeling fully awake, Sirius’ eyes flew over the page once, twice, and then three times before he cast a spell copying the entire page onto a fresh sheet of paper, before pocketing the copy, grabbing the book and poking his head out the door for the first time in days as he called to Arcturus._

_“Arcturus! I think I may need your help again after all! Have you ever read about the **Anima Integumentum** warding ritual?”_

\---------------

_James. Lils. Prongslet. Lily. Prongs. Harry._

Sirius’ blank eyes focused as soon as the old-style houses appeared in his vision, the mantra of names fading to the back of his mind in favour of more important things, but not quite dying out completely. Godric’s hollow looked peaceful and serene from above, but Sirius was painfully aware that that didn’t mean anything as there was only a limited possibility of the muggles being disturbed by any occurrences in the magical world that existed around them. It didn’t matter anyway, as in just a few moments the Potter household would be in his sight and Sirius would be able to see his friends for himself and then get them out of there before Voldemort or his Death Eaters turned-

No.

_No._

_No no no no, **no!**_

_No._

**_NO!_ **

Sirius was unable to stop the motorcycle from freefalling into the street, only barely managing to scrape a hasty landing as he looked ahead to see the most frightening thing he’d ever seen in his life. Halfway up the street, the charming little house that was supposed to be the safest place for his dear friends and their beloved son, was standing in a wreck. The front door had been blasted off its hinges and was uselessly hanging in the doorframe and the windows were blown out in a way that Sirius had seen before in houses that had been raided by Death Eaters and a fight had taken place. The brown, shingled roof had a large, smoking hole blasted through it near the chimney… and Sirius let out a sob as he realised that it was right where Harry’s nursery would be.

But worst of all was the presence of the horrid, devastating constellation above the house, which seemed to be made of emerald stars. As Sirius stared at the dreaded form of the Dark Mark that was the calling card of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, he _knew_.

He knew that they were dead.

James.

Lily.

_Harry_.

They were dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warding-ritual roughly translates to:
> 
> With this verse I offer my soul. Send to rest this shield crafted of my core. Answer the call of my soul.

_“You’re a fool, boy.”_

_“Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times now,” Sirius snapped irritably at Arcturus, his patience waning. “Will you help me? Please?”_

_“This kind of magic hasn’t been performed in decades! There’s not even any definite proof that the ritual works, and even if it does there’s less than half a chance that you’ll survive it. If you’re looking for ways to kill yourself, I know several that are less painful and easier to perform than this.”_

_“Will. You. Help. Me?”_

_Sirius did his best not to glare at Arcturus as the older man stared at him with cool, analytical eyes._

_“If it’ll finally get you out of my house, since you’re so dead-set on dying like a martyr.”_

_“Great!” Sirius threw the book containing the instructions for the **Anima Integumentum** warding ritual into the centre of the dining table, “Let’s get started then,” he paused in thought before glancing at the owner of the house. “Where do you keep your knives?”_

\---------------

_“I’m done.”_

_At Arcturus’ declaration, Sirius looked down to examine his bare chest and arms, no longer afraid of accidentally shifting and messing up the intricate symbols painted on with a poultice made from mud and chalk and a little of his own blood. He noted the dotted patterns adorning his torso and shoulders with interest and he actually recognised a few of the Latin symbols that were worked into the design over his heart and on the softer side of his forearms, but what really drew his attention were the four, heavier, triple-cord bands, one around each wrist and one on each bicep._

_After a moment more of admiring his grandfather’s work, Sirius nodded in acknowledgement and immediately reached for the slip of paper he had transcribed the spell for the warding ritual. He didn’t bother asking if Arcturus was sure he was finished or wasting time with suspicion, and if Arcturus was surprised by that, he didn’t show it, not even to raise a rather bushy eyebrow at the display of faith. Truth be told, Arcturus probably knew just as well as Sirius did that if he was going to betray him, Sirius was screwed anyway so there was no point in being overly careful with his trust in this situation._

_And the idea that Arcturus could have made a mistake with this was laughable, no matter how sceptical he was about the validity of the ritual they were using._

_“So I just say the spell and give names while making cuts to bind them to the spell?”_

_“Not quite,” Sirius looked up as his grandfather explained what he needed to do, “You don’t need to use their names. Just attach each person to a concept that you naturally and instinctively associate with them and use that word as the key for each individual. If it works and you don’t die, then you will be able to focus the spell as necessary should you ever call upon the ward. Using more than one person won’t diminish the effectiveness, but you run a higher risk of killing yourself by spreading your soul and magic too thin.”_

_“Ah, OK,” Sirius took a deep breath, glancing back at the slip of paper once more. “Here goes nothing. **Cum onlud carmen do anima mea. Mitto quies onlud integumentum ars per medietas mea. Responsum voco anima mea.** ”_

_Sirius gasped in shock as he felt an intense magical concentration run through his body, building up and begging for release. With shaking hands, he grabbed the ritual knife Arcturus had placed on the table and made five relatively deep wounds in different spaces on his arms between the three-corded band designs, three on his left arm and two on his right. As he made each cut, he poured all of the love he felt – as well as his need to protect – into his thoughts and concentrated on the feelings he felt when he was with each of them._

_“ **Pup** ,” Sirius said, his mind engrossed with images of the tiny baby he had held in his arms just a few days prior, as well as the fierce feelings of protectiveness and the desire to be a part of his life. As he focused all his feelings into that one word – that one concept – that encompassed all he meant, Sirius sliced the knife just above the band on his wrist, creating an oval-looking wound that bleed freely but not quite alarmingly._

_The effect was instantaneous, and the pain intense. All the symbols running over his body, painted in nothing more magical than mud, blood and chalk, began to emanate a soft golden glow, which soon disappeared as a brighter white light shone from the now-burning symbols. Whatever it was, it **hurt** , like someone was trying to scrape the symbols into his bones and pouring acid into the wound. It also didn’t feel **right** yet, as though this was just a preliminary effect of the spell. Sirius was soon validated of that very vague notion, when the colours of the symbols began to change again. He gasped in surprise and more than a little pain as the intensity of the light intensified and the colour shifted from the pure white, to a pale blue which darkened until his arms were glowing with midnight-blue symbols (if he remembered the colour correctly from his pureblood education in the arts)._

_But Sirius only took this in peripherally. His main focus was on the profound, vivid, all-consuming pain he felt deep within him somewhere (perhaps it was in his soul, or his magic?). It didn’t matter. He embraced it, thinking of the pup, his godson and nephew, Prongslet, **Harry**. He concentrated on his instinctive knowledge that he would protect the son of his best friends from **anything** he needed to be protected from. He focused on the feelings that had spread through him when he held the tiny person for the first time, and then every time since in the short while he had been on this earth._

_Eventually, the intense pain of the magic on his soul (or core or whatever it was supposed to be called) slowed down and disappeared. It would be incorrect to say that it fizzled out like some spells, or that it cut off like the Cruciatus did. No, the magic was still there, Sirius knew this, but it had softened and settled, ready to be called upon should the need ever arise. After another moment, Sirius couldn’t even feel that, and he let out a shaky breath as he gathered himself for the next round._

_“Well, that was rather intense.” Sirius said cheerfully before he looked up at Arcturus, who was watching him with interest, “One down, four to go.”_

\---------------

Sirius stood in the middle of the street, his recently-abused motorcycle sitting neglected beside him as he cycled through numbness and horror in an intensity he had never reached before, with all the horrors he had seen in his life. In his state, he was oblivious to the muggles emerging from their homes, staring at the man who looked to have just crashed a motorcycle in the middle of their street and was staring at something a little further down the way.

Sirius wasn’t sure if his now-useless body was going to start trembling. He didn’t know if he’d go into shock, if he’d sink to his knees or if he’d start running – away or towards the house, it wouldn’t _matter_ because they were dead either way! Maybe his stomach would revolt, and he’d be sick first, or maybe he’d pass out in his horror.

Maybe he wouldn’t get to do anything as lingering Death Eater took the opportunity of Sirius’ distraction to finally finish him off.

And maybe he’d prefer that last option.

“Sir? Sir are you well?”

No. No he was not well.

“Ah… What is it that ails you? Are you hurt?” As the man asked, Sirius realised that he must have spoken aloud. In his state, he was unable to filter his words, Statute of Secrecy and Order secrets be damned, so it was probably a good thing he was completely incoherent at that point.

“You don’t know it, but the three best and brightest people in the world were just murdered. And it’s my fault for suggesting we use the rat.”

“…the…? I see…”

“No, you don’t. You can’t. No one can except for me and him.”

“Erm…”

“I knew something was wrong. I could feel it all day. But I thought that was coming from my end… I never even suspected… I left at sundown. The snakes work mostly at night, so it probably only happened a few hours later-”

Sirius blinked into full awareness, sharply and suddenly, as that thought caused a metaphorical hole to burn in his pocket and suddenly he was standing in middle of Godric’s Hollow on Halloween, surrounded by concerned muggles who had noticed a stranger with a banged-up motorcycle standing in the middle of the street, all the while oblivious to the murder site just a few houses down. This return to the situation was due to the fact that Sirius suddenly had hope again, as he reached into a forgotten pocket of his jacket and he felt his fingers close around a small piece of cool metal.

\---------------

_“Sirius!”_

_The man felt a grin slide onto his lips at the pleasantly familiar voice. He turned around from where he was looking at the window display of **Flourish & Blotts **and smiled at the two people approaching him from the direction of Florean’s shop._

_“Well, if it isn’t Mr and Mrs Lovegood!”_

_Pandora Lovegood laughed in delight, her dirty-blond hair done up behind her in an intricate bun that was the usual of the odd woman. Beside her, Xeno grinned, his luminous eyes crinkled in joy at his recently-wed bride’s happiness._

_“Sirius, I do hope you won’t be calling us that for too long! There’s no need to stay so impersonal among friends,” Xeno said, his voice suffused with warmth._

_“I wouldn’t dream of it, Xeno! Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding, Pan.”_

_Pandora brushed off his apology with more flair than was required, but Sirius smiled, used to such abnormalities with her. “No need! The Potters told us why you couldn’t make it and we completely understand. These are dreadful times, indeed.”_

_Both Sirius and Xeno nodded at Pandora’s statement, though it hardly required it. Everyone had been touched by the war and faced the constant fear of being killed by Death Eaters or coming home to a house with the Dark Mark above it. Sirius himself had found friends’ homes like that in the year since he’d graduated and joined Dumbledore’s Order. He tried to not let himself think about Fabian and Gideon._

_“So are you going to try for a kid?” Sirius changed the subject, not willing to risk a sombre mood taking hold of the interaction._

_Both Lovegoods smiled, not looking as though they had noticed what he was trying to do, which Sirius was glad for. He knew that neither of his friends had seen first-hand the results of Voldemort’s darker actions, and he hoped they never would._

_“Yes, we discussed it, and we think having a child would be miraculous,” Xeno’s slightly cross-eyed and usually distant expression warm and present as he glanced down at his wife, who also nodded._

_“Maybe our child and the Potters’ will be able to play together,” Sirius wasn’t surprised Pandora had found out Lily was pregnant, despite the fact that only the Marauders and James’ parents were supposed to know just yet, but he was curious if Pandora had somehow figured it out by herself – she had a knack for noticing the oddest of things but still coming up with the correct conclusion – or if James had finally broke down and, unable to hide his joy for long, spilled the beans. He hoped for the latter, because then he would have won the betting pool with Lily, Remus and Peter about how long it would take James to blow the secret._

_As if reading his mind, Pandora smiled, “James told us,” Sirius silently cheered, “when Lily was out of earshot. Said we were the first outside of your family to know and that it was part of his wedding present to us, but that we shouldn’t tell Lily because it was supposed to be a secret for a little while longer.”_

_Sirius smirked, “Joke’s on him because Lily said he wouldn’t make it past one month before telling someone. Thank you, Pan, you and your first-trimester-marker wedding have just won me a bet.”_

_She smiled and laughed again, “No problem at all, Sirius. Oh!”_

_Sirius glanced, concerned, at Pandora at her surprised exclamation._

_“Pan? Are you alright?”_

_“Yes, I’m completely fine. I just have a good feeling about something. Here,” Sirius automatically held out his hand and Pandora deposited something small in it. When he saw what it was his eyes widened and he stared at her in shock._

_“Pan, what-”_

_“Xeno and I found it at his father’s house the other day. He said that he’d been keeping it there until he knew what to do with it and that since we’d found it, it obviously meant that it needed to go with us.”_

_“Pandora, I-”_

_“Dear, did you figure out what we were supposed to do with it?” Xeno glanced at his wife curiously, who simply nodded._

_“Yes, I feel that Sirius should take it.”_

_“That’s excellent! You’ll have to tell me all about what you thought about before you realised it, later.”_

_“Oh, of course!”_

_“Pan! Where… How… Why…” Sirius said, lost._

_“Oh Sirius, you’re thinking about it too much,” Pandora reassured. “Just follow your instincts and you’ll know what to do with it when the time comes. Maybe you’ll need to pass it on to someone, or perhaps you’ll need to use it yourself. Just keep it with you until you know what you need to do with it.”_

_“I… OK. OK, then,” still shocked, Sirius safely placed the item he had been given in an inner pocket of his jacket, to be thought about later. He still didn’t understand a lot about how the Lovegoods had gotten it or why they were giving it to him, but Sirius suspected that he never would._

_Turning his attention back to his two friends, who were discussing the benefits that different baby names held for the child, Sirius put the item in his pocket out of his mind. By the time he and the Lovegoods parted ways, after a lovely morning spent strolling through the street together, he had forgotten about it completely._

\---------------

 _Sundown_ , Sirius thought while staring at the Time-Turner that had sat unnoticed in his pocket for the last two years since Pandora Lovegood had given it to him that morning in Diagon Alley, _Oh Merlin, sundown._

_I can save them._

 


	4. Chapter 4

“What time is it?”

The thirty-something-year-old muggle man started as Sirius suddenly turned his full attention on him, not that Sirius could blame him given the events of the last few minutes. It was probably quite unnerving to have a strange man crash a motorcycle in the middle of your street, stand and stare blankly at seemingly nothing a few houses down, and then numbly talk incongruently about random events for a minute before suddenly swinging around and asking for the time.

“Err- Are you-”

“No, I’m currently not OK, but I’m doing much better now than the last time you asked and I _really_ need to know the time, so I can do something crazy. Just… please, can you tell me what time it is?”

“It… It’s almost eleven o’clock,” the poor man said bewilderedly, and he began to nervously glance around.

Eleven o’clock. The Time-Turner could go back five hours maximum, which would put him at six in the evening, one hour after sundown. That might be cutting it close.

He’d better move quickly then.

 _“Thank you!”_ he quickly shot at the man, who startled as Sirius suddenly ran behind the nearest house, pulling the chain of the Time-Turner around his neck as he did so. If this worked, he didn’t want to appear in the middle of the street and leave a bunch of trick or treaters as witnesses. Sirius leaned against the old wall of the house he was hidden behind, which was shrouded in shadow, and with surprisingly steady fingers, considering the rollercoaster of emotions he’d gone through in the last few hours, he turned the hourglass five times.

Sirius let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, before letting go as, around him, the night melted in time.

\---------------

James Potter sat in the living area of his house at twenty-to-six in the evening of Halloween, 1981, playing with his one-year-old son, Harry, while his wonderful wife, Lily Potter, watched them with a soft smile playing on her lips.

If this were a different, happier world, James knew that they’d be able to go out tonight – maybe to a party with the Marauders, the Prewetts, the McKinnons, the Longbottoms, the Lovegoods, the McGonagalls, and all their other friends. All the children would dress up and play together while the parents watched on, talking among themselves, and tried to make sure they didn’t eat too much candy (except for Sirius, who would instead teach them how to sneak it past their parents). They wouldn’t have to worry about things like being out after dark, because it would be safe no matter the time. They wouldn’t need to wonder if the person beside them was going to sell them out to Death Eaters, because there would be no war to divide loyalties.

But unfortunately, they didn’t live in that world, so the Potters would have to stay in hiding. But watching his son as he giggled when he tickled him with a conjured feather, James thought that that was OK, because they were still fighting for that world, and maybe one day they would be able to live in it. Besides, this wasn’t so bad. Even though Sirius, Remus and Peter weren’t there, James found that he was happy.

Sudden frantic knocking on the door startled James out of his blissful thoughts, and he and Lily exchanged serious glances. Lily came and grabbed Harry and moved over to the stairs, in case she needed to run, while James reached for his wand, eyes on the door and expression wary. Only two people were supposed to be able to access this place, due to the Fidelius charm, but neither of them were supposed to have any contact this early.

“Prongs!? Prongs, it’s me!” James blinked at the sound of Sirius’ frantic voice, and after glancing once more at Lily, he moved to the door and looked through the spy-hole to see his best friend rapidly rapping on the door, his face urgent and faintly terrified. At seeing that, James was unnerved and wanted nothing more than to let him in, but he managed to restrain himself long enough to ask a security question, just to ensure it was, in fact, Sirius out there, and not some Death Eater ploy.

“What was the name of the ghost who was in love with Remus and kept writing him love poems?” James kept an eye on Sirius and was further alarmed by the way his friend’s face melted into utter relief – eyes sliding shut and tension falling away - upon hearing his voice.

“Ingrid,” Sirius’ voice cracked in, what James was startled to realise was, a sob. He quickly opened the door and, when Sirius just stood there, he pulled his best friend in, signalling to Lily that it was alright.

After closing the door hurriedly, he looked to see Sirius staring at him and trembling slightly, but before he could so much and ask if he was all right, James found himself pulled into a tight embrace by the shorter man. He automatically returned the gesture, though he was now feeling rather panicked about whatever had shaken his friend so badly. His mind was running through horrible possibilities, and he found himself dreading the absence of Peter and Remus more than ever.

Barely a moment since it was initiated, Sirius drew back from the hug, startling James, and his eyes immediately locked onto where Lily was standing with Harry just a few feet away. Sirius seemed almost trance-like as he placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder, as if reassuring himself that she was there, and stared down at his godson, cradled in his mother’s arms. A moment later he stepped away, releasing a breath and shaking his head while he pressed his fingers into his eyes.

“Sirius?” he called, concerned.

“You’re alright, you’re all alright,” James heard him murmur to himself, and his worry ratcheted.

“Sirius?” he tried again and was rewarded with Sirius’ face clearing and becoming serious (no pun intended) as his gaze locked onto his.

“We have to get out of here. Now.”

James blinked, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Voldemort’s coming. Tonight.”

“What do you mean…? But he won’t be able to get in, Sirius, there’s no counter for the Fidelius, remember?” Lily said sharply and logically.

But Sirius just shook his head, “He won’t need one. He knows the Secret. And if he doesn’t yet then he will _very_ soon.”

James paled at the implications and he let out a sharp breath. “Peter…” If Peter had been captured… James didn’t know how long he would be able to hold out.

“-is the traitor, James,” Sirius finished his sentence, but not in the way he’d been expecting.

“What!” James wasn’t sure whose exclamation was louder, his or Lily’s.

“Are you sure?”

“How do you know?”

“Because it fits! I hate it, but it fits and when I got to his flat it was empty, but there were no signs of a struggle, and if I’m wrong it doesn’t matter anyway because he’ll give up the Secret. It doesn’t matter if he tells willingly or under torture; you’ll be dead either way.” Sirius pulled a fine, golden chain our from under his shirt and James’ felt eyes widen and heard Lily sharply inhale at the sight of a Time-Turner gleaming in the light. His eyes snapped back to Sirius as the man spoke again, “Five hours from now and I arrive on the street to see the door off its hinges, a smoking hole in the roof and the bloody Dark Mark in the air.”

James forgot about his incredulity about where the _hell_ Sirius had gotten a _Time-Turner_ from in the face of that declaration, as Sirius’ shaken state suddenly made a lot more sense. Now that he knew what sort of horror his best friend had just gone through and had travelled back in time to prevent, James no longer doubted the decision to flee the supposed safe-house. One look at Lily and he knew that his wife agreed.

“OK-”

_Bang!_

James and Sirius whirled at the sound of the door being blasted off its hinges, just in time to see a hooded figure step through the door, before the intruder hissed a spell that sent the both of them crashing into different walls of the house. Upon impact, James cracked his head on a wooden beam, causing darkness to begin swirling through his mind.

He had just enough time to take in Lily’s terrified _“James!”_ and see the terrifying visage of Voldemort before he was overcome by unconsciousness.

\---------------

_“James!”_

Sirius heard Lily’s terrified shout as his back slammed into the wall of the Potter’s living room and he felt his heart leap into his throat as he saw his friend’s limp body lying in a heap across the room from him. He didn’t have time to focus on that, however, as he scrambled to pull his wand out upon landing on the ground.

_“Avada kedav-!”_

_“Crucio!”_

Sirius’ own casting of the killing curse was cut off as Voldemort sent the torture curse to where he was laying on the floor.

 _Pain. Pain pain pain._ Sirius choked down a scream but was quite able to stop the strangled sound that escaped from him as he writhed on the floor. He heard Lily scream a _“No, stop!”_ but there wasn’t anything she could do with Harry in her arms.

After an age, the curse was released, and Sirius lay on the ground, a twitching pile of useless limbs as he listened to Voldemort talk to Lily.

“Step aside, girl.”

“No, no, not Harry, not Harry, please.”

Shivering and trying desperately to recover so he could give Lily a chance to take Harry and _get_ _out_ , Sirius lifted his head to see what was going on. Immediately he saw his wand lying a few feet away and realised he must have thrown it away when he was hit by the intense torture curse. James hadn’t moved from where he had fallen in a boneless heap and Sirius inwardly despaired the fact that he had no idea if his friend and brother in bond was still alive or not. Promising himself that – if he lived long enough – he’d discover Prongs’ fate later, Sirius glanced to the left to see the chilling sight of Voldemort, standing in pitch-black robes and wand asunder, backing Lily, who clutched Harry tightly to her chest, into the kitchen.

When she bumped into the counter in the corner next to the sink, Lily quickly turned and placed her son behind her, before turning back to face Voldemort and shielding the baby with her body. Sirius noted distraughtly then that she didn’t have her wand on her either.

“The boy has to die,” Voldemort’s voice was high pitched and smoother than Sirius would have expected.

Lily let out a sob, incessantly shaking her head in denial, “No, no please, no. Take me instead!”

Sirius subtly looked around, taking care not to attract any attention to himself before he was ready to act, though there was little point since the Dark wizard was facing the other direction from him anyway. Desperately trying to think of anything that could make a difference to the length of Lily and Harry’s lives, Sirius’ eyes landed on an oval scar near his wrist. He stared at it for a second before, for the second time that night, he was filled with hope at a crazy plan.

“If you step aside now, you may live. If your husband is not already dead, I’ll leave him alone too. You can live out the rest of your lives if you step aside now.”

“He’s just a baby! He’s innocent to all of this! You don’t have to kill him!”

Sirius could tell that Voldemort was running out of patience, so he quickly tried to prepare himself to use the spell that might just save Lily and Harry’s lives. It was a long shot, and it was likely that he wouldn’t survive even if it did work, but it was the best chance he could give Lily and the pup. And, if he did die, he would just have to hope that he was enough of a distraction to stop Voldemort from killing Lily.

After taking a deep, readying breath, Sirius concentrated on focusing all his magic, all his power, love and feelings of protectiveness, into a scar on his left arm just below his elbow. It was vaguely shaped like a _fleur de lis_ and was one of five similar scars on his arms, another two – like the oval near his wrist – which were on the same arm, while two others were on the right.

“Mmh… Sirius…?” Sirius looked up at the confused mutter, at once joyous that James was still alive and afraid that he would attract Voldemort’s attention. Luckily, the self-acclaimed Dark Lord didn’t notice James’ newly acquired consciousness.

“Last chance; step aside now or die with the boy.”

“No! I won’t!”

“Very well then.”

“Lily!” James cried, finally noticing what was going on in the kitchen, but his call was ineffective against Voldemort’s next words, his wand tracing the movement of the killing curse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evoco = awaken, the flower bit is a name.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

_“Evoco. Flower.”_

James watched, the throbbing of his head forgotten, as the green spell spat out by Voldemort’s wand – the spell that would kill his Lily – collided with a shimmering, dark blue, magical net that appeared - as though woven out of the air – before his wife. He watched as the death curse shone brighter than he’d ever seen, before rebounding back onto its caster. He watched as, with a high-pitched, inhuman shriek, Voldemort’s body seemed to… _obliterate_ , blasting into smoke and wisps of- of- of _something_ James that would later refer to as ‘ghost pieces’ that immediately dissipated, except for one that fled out the window, shattering the glass.

And as he watched all of this, he heard Sirius _scream._

\---------------

_“You’re pregnant!” Sirius exclaimed, his eyes lighting up in joy at the announcement James had just made, standing in his living room._

_James felt his own giddy grin take over his face as Sirius – his brother in bond, if not in blood – smiled in genuine delight, surprise and wonderment; a smile the likes of which he hadn’t seen on the other man’s face in years – not since the day when they were sixteen and he’d first broached the subject of his and his parents’ agreement to adopt Sirius into the House of Potter. He managed to get himself under control, though, so as to not miss the opportunity Sirius’ surprise provided._

_“Well, technically Lily is-” James laughed as he was cut off by Sirius throwing a pillow at him._

_“Shut it, Prongs! You know what I mean! You’re going to have a little Prongslet!”_

_This time James was unable to school his smile, as he nodded, “Or a little blossom.”_

_Sirius snorted, “I don’t care about the baby’s gender – I’m still going to call it ‘Prongslet’.”_

_“Well, as godfather, it is your right to choose the nickname,” James returned thoughtlessly._

_Sirius froze. James frowned in concerned confusion, before Sirius slowly looked at him, his face carefully neutral but something heavy in his eyes that James couldn’t quite identify, but that had no place being there._

_“Godfather…?” Sirius’ voice wasn’t quite blank, but anyone who wasn’t close to him wouldn’t be able to pick out the odd mixture of concern and… **confusion(?)** hidden within it._

_“Yeah? Wha- Oh. Oh! I forgot to ask you!” James said, figuring he’d discovered the reason behind his friend’s tone. “Well, I mean, it’s not like we’d ask anyone **else,** but… Padfoot?”_

_James stopped again as he saw Sirius’ neutral expression give way into further confusion, the heavy thing in his eyes withdrawing a little, but not disappearing entirely._

_“Padfoot, what is it?”_

_“You’re making me godfather?” The simple, honest bewilderment in Sirius’ voice floored James, as did the soft, sincere tone he used. Why was-? This shouldn’t have been a surprise to Sirius – James knew his friend hadn’t been that insecure about their friendship for years now, so why was Sirius regressing?_

_It was that last thought that had James regaining his voice, suddenly fearing that he’d missed something big going on with his best friend._

_“Why is this a surprise to you?” James did his best to not sound too accusatory, but he needn’t have worried as it ended up coming out as more of a desperate plea anyway._

_Sirius apparently caught onto the direction his thoughts were going, because he hastened to reassure him that he was fine in that sense._

_“James, I’m not saying…” he sighed, “I know I’m your best friend, and I accepted you, Lily, Peter and Remus into my heart as my family through bond rather than blood a long time ago, and when the Prongslet is born I already know I’ll love them too… I don’t mean… I just don’t get why I would be a candidate for godfather, is all.”_

_James’ eyebrows shot up, “What do you mean; you don’t why you’d be a candidate for godfather!? Sirius-” James cut himself off and attempted to regain control of his emotions after his outburst – he **still** didn’t understand what Sirius was saying. Taking a breath, he tried again, “Sirius, like you said, you’re my best friend. So what the bloody hell are you talking about? Why do you think there are even **any** candidates? Who else would we want!?”_

_That heavy thing was back in his friend’s eyes again, and, James noted, it was a lot darker than he had first realised, “James, I’m not the kind of person anyone sane would make responsible for their child in times of **peace,** let alone during the midst of a civil war that we are **actively** participating in. There is an actual, legitimate risk of leaving your child an orphan, so I’m the **last** person you should name godfather!”_

_“Why!? Sirius, we **both** know that if anything ever happened to me and Lily you’d love and raise our kid as your own – I don’t doubt it for a **second**! I trust you more than anyone and I know you’d be great at raising a kid, so if this is some claim that you’d be to reckless or irresponsible-!”_

_“It’s not about that, James!”_

_James animatedly gestured at nothing in frustration, “Well then what’s it about!?”_

_“It’s about the fact that I’ll be long dead before you!”_

_James froze, his frustration turning into shock – and more than a little fear – at his friend’s proclamation. He felt himself go numb as dozens of horrifying possibilities sprang into his mind – each more terrifying than the last - about what Sirius might have meant by that statement. Was Sirius dying? He didn’t know if he could imagine anything worse than his best friend not being a part of his future – especially if he was sick or had been cursed and James somehow hadn’t **noticed**. He barely registered it as he sunk into the nearest chair._

_“W-what?”_

_James looked up when he heard Sirius heave a sigh before moving to sit in a chair nearby._

_“We both know that it’s highly unlikely I’m going to survive this war,” Sirius began, and James’ eyes snapped to his face. “I haven’t gone looking for death, but even I’m surprised no one’s managed to do me in by this point – on **either** side.”_

_What the HELL did Sirius mean by THAT?_

_Sirius levelled him with a **look,** as though he’d read his mind, and James realised he must have been showing alarm pretty clearly on his face. He didn’t try to change his expression, however, as he thought it was pretty damn justified._

_“I’m the disowned pureblood Gryffindor; Sirius **Black,** James. That means I’m generally hated – or at least… **mistrusted** – by both sides of the war. It doesn’t always come out in aggression, but people often show a certain unwillingness to help me out when they find out my last name is ‘Black’.”_

_James grimaced. He had noticed a few instances of people seeming reluctant to interact with Sirius if his name ever came up, and he now understood what he was saying about that. He’d noticed the nervous shifting or suspicious glares that some of the Light directed at him on occasion. He also remembered the more extreme incident of Violet Brosure flat-out **refusing** to partner with Sirius in an op because she wouldn’t be ‘tricked into working with a Death Eater spy’. _

_He’d been rather pissed when he heard her come out with **that** one._

_“And that’s not even taking into account the fact that we are in the thick of it. We rack up captures and kills like no one else and the Death Eaters **know** that, which has made us prolific targets.”_

_Well, James couldn’t deny that, but that didn’t explain why Sirius ‘would be dead long before he was’._

_“But even if we weren’t in the middle of a war…”_

_“What?” James asked when Sirius trailed off. The heavy thing was prevalent in his eyes when Sirius looked at him again._

_“Even when we were in school I knew I was going to die young,” Sirius said bluntly, and James felt as the breath was knocked out of him. “I think it was something I’ve always known on some level, since I was never able to picture myself living past thirty. My plan was always to live hard and fast, and to do my best to make sure my death would be useful.”_

_James felt himself turn white as the blood left his face. He was utterly terrified at hearing Sirius say he wasn’t planning on living for very long. He was devastated at the damage that had been done to his best friend, caused by both his parents and, apparently, their own allies. He was shocked because of all the things… of all the reasons… he would have never expected to hear **that** , and he’d had no idea that Padfoot had thought this._

_But also… James was **mad**._

_He was mad at what he was hearing – at what Sirius honestly thought was the truth. He was mad at the reasons behind **why** he thought like that. He was mad that his best friend – his **brother** – thought he wasn’t acceptable as the godfather for his child because he didn’t think he’d be around long enough to be a part of his life._

_He was also mad at himself for not realising any of this before now. How had he not known!? What kind of best friend was he if he was only just now clueing on, and only because Sirius himself had **told** him!?_

_Looking at his best friend – at the heavy look in his grey eyes - James knew he had to do something. Now._

_“Don’t you dare, Sirius,” he snapped, his tone hard as he glared at Sirius, “Don’t you Goddamn **dare.** ”_

_“Jame-”_

_“Uh-uh, don’t you dare do that to us, Padfoot.”_

_“I’m not trying to! I don’t want to die, but-”_

_“No! You are not a lost cause, Sirius! You’re right, you are in a trickier situation than almost anyone because of the nature of this war, but that does **not** mean your life is forfeit! Do you understand that? This isn’t a bloody chess game where sacrificing pieces is acceptable!”_

_“I know, James! I know that! I promise I’m not trying to get myself killed, but-”_

_“Ohh, if you say ‘but’ one more time…”_

_“-But my death seems pretty damn inevitable, the way things are going-”_

_“Not if you keep fighting!”_

_“Oh please, we both know that I’m going to be fighting ‘til the day I die! It’s what I’ve been doing my whole life anyway!”_

_“Yeah, but you better be fighting to win and not just hold off until your death is **convenient** for your conscience!”_

_“Don’t worry about that! When they get me, they’ll have had to fight **hard,** because I’m going to be fighting to my last tooth and nail in order to stay alive!_

_“Well good!”_

_“I agree… but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still **highly** likely to die or that I won’t have to sacrifice my life for the cause!”_

_“Argh! But you better stop thinking of it as a certainty! Because if you do then you’ve already lost and you’re already half-way dead!”_

_“What do you mean I’ve already lost?!”_

_“I mean that you will lose yourself to darkness and despair and hopelessness, and parts of you that make you **you** will be consumed by the war and then you **will** die, because your identity and sense of self-worth will always be tied to it. You’ll throw yourself into dangerous situations, so you can die for your cause! You’ll lose because you never planned on living! And you can’t do that to me!”_

_“…”_

_The air was tense between them as he and Sirius gazed at each other in silence, but Sirius didn’t say anything. He was obviously thinking over James’ words and what he meant, evaluating how far along he was in James’ prediction. After another moment in which the silence continued, James felt himself deflate, his righteous anger fading so he could impart what he really needed to say. What he really needed Sirius to hear and understand._

_“Sirius, I don’t… You…” he took a shaky breath and realised that he was close to tears. Sirius was staring at him, concerned. Good, it’d make sure he heard what James had to say. “I **can’t** hear that from you. Understand? That… You have to live. You have to live, and you have to make sure that you’re **here** at the end of it. You can’t stop fighting for that, because the Prongslet is going to need you in their life. And so will I. So will we.”_

_James saw Sirius’ expression soften in guilt, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he’d made progress or not._

_“Prongs… I solemnly swear to never stop fighting,” Sirius said, his face hardening into a determination that James was inconceivably glad to see. It meant that Sirius was serious, and that he’d heard everything James had said. “Not just in the war. I’ll do everything I can to still make sure that I don’t lose myself, either.”_

_The two men stared at each other for a moment, each reading the various complicated emotions in the other’s eyes, and neither doing anything to try and hide them. Then James gave a small, genuine grin, though it was laced with sadness, stood up and moved to Sirius, who did the same. They embraced, solidifying the conversation and the decision reached between them, as they had done so many times in their friendship before._

_“So you’ll be my kid’s godfather?” James asked when they stepped back, slinging an arm over his shorter friend’s shoulders and leading him to the couch._

_“Yes,” Sirius replied almost immediately, making James smile, “If nothing else… It’ll give me something to fight the darkness with.”_

_“It’ll give you something to survive for,” James pointed out in addition, and watched as Sirius paused in consideration before nodding._

_“Yeah, I guess it will.”_

\---------------

James looked just in time to see the same magical net that had just saved Lily fizzle out with an ominous crackle from where it was suspended, woven in the air, between Sirius’ arms. He didn’t remember getting to his feet after that, his mind blanking beyond the fact that that scream should _never_ have come from Sirius. All he was aware of was crashing to his knees before his best friend, who had collapsed upon himself and was breathing loud, shaky breaths while his entire body trembled from a combination of adrenaline and pain.

“Sirius!?”

“Sirius!”

Lily’s shout of concern came just after his own, and a split-second later James saw felt her appear behind him. He didn’t look at her, but he could here her frenzied, shaken attempts to try and calm Harry – who was wailing inconsolably, not that James was surprised – and he could imagine the way she would be clutching him to her chest after almost losing him. James himself wanted nothing more in than moment than to gather all three of them in his arms as tightly as he could.

He saw the utter relief that Sirius’ face melted into as the other man saw Lily and Harry both unharmed.

“O-oh good, it worked,” Sirius said in an airy voice.

“Padfoot, are you OK?” James asked urgently.

His best friend looked at him and nodded, “Yeah. I survived this far, and that was the real danger. I’m just a bit tired right now, and I might be in a little bit of shock.”

Relief. Pure, unmitigated relief. James closed his eyes as he felt the feeling wash over him. Sirius was alive. His family was safe.

Without saying anything, he slid down next to Sirius and pulled him into a hug. Not a moment later he felt Lily get down and join them, pushing a much calmer Harry into the middle, and the four of them just sat there like that, slumped on the living room floor together while their treacherous minds began to start processing the events of the last few minutes.

They’d have to talk about that soon - immediately really – as so much had just occurred that James wasn’t sure where to start. It was a vital conversation that would need to take place in no later than ten minutes. But for those next ten minutes, the Potters and the man who was their best friend, godfather and brother all in one, would just take comfort in the fact that they were all alive.


	6. Chapter 6

James was the first one to break away, and as much as Lily wanted to protest the action – wanted to bask in the comfort of James, Harry and Sirius and the fact that they were all _alive_ – she knew that there could still be a danger to them now that the Fidelius had been breached by Voldemort. So, instead she sat back with Harry and ran her eyes over Sirius’ exhausted form in concern. _At least he had stopped trembling…_

Lily, not one to allow herself to be dominated by shock for long, ran her mind quickly through the events of the last few minutes, and the implications; both good and bad. The Fidelius had been breached, just after Sirius had arrived and warned them about their future deaths… warned them about Peter. The Dark Lord had come after Harry… but had offered to spare her? Sirius sounded like he had tortured himself to provide her with a magical shield when Voldemort had…

_Oh sweet Merlin’s balls._

At that realisation, Lily was unable to stop herself from blurting out her incredulous and slightly hysterical question, pre-emptively cutting James off when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Sirius, did you just kill Lord Voldemort in our kitchen?”

The two men both stared at her, James’ mouth open in a slight gape while his eyes slowly grew wider under their glasses as he too must have remembered the Dark Lord exploding into… whatever that was. After a moment, he too turned and silently stared at Sirius, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Sirius stared blankly, before noticing the state of both the Potters and the fact that, yes, they did want him to answer that question.

“I… have no…” he trailed off, clearly thinking, before starting again carefully. “The ritual didn’t say anything about… that… happening.”

“What ritual?” James asked at the same time as Lily, and she could tell from the narrowing of her husband’s eyes that she wasn’t just imaging the slightly shifty expression that crossed their best friend’s face before he answered.

“The warding ritual that saved Lily,” he said carefully, but Lily and James kept up their questioning stare until he sighed a little, obviously knowing that they wanted more than that. “It’s just supposed to shield someone the caster loves with a magical barrier created by soul, or core or whatever you want to call it, but, well, there aren’t many records of it ever working - certainly not any recent enough to be considered reliable - and none of them mentioned anything about killing the thing trying to do harm to the person being protected.”

“‘There aren’t any records of it ever working…?’” James repeated, suspicion clouding his tone that Lily found herself in complete agreement with. “Sirius, where exactly did you find this spell? And why do I feel like I’m not going to like the answer?”

Lily stared at Sirius, her thoughts echoing James, as she waited for the other man to speak. Sirius gave a slight wince, before sighing again and answering.

“It was in one of the more rare and illegal books in Arcturus’ personal library.”

Arcturus? Why was that name familiar… _Oh_. Lily took a deep breath as she recounted the crash-course Sirius had once given her of his family.

“You went to Arcturus’ house!?” James’ pitch rose with that revelation, not that Lily could blame him, considering what she knew about Sirius’ relationship with his blood family. “Why in the name of _Merlin_ would you go there!? We both promised that you’d never go back, and that you’d never _need_ to go back!”

“It was fifteen months ago!” Sirius defended himself.

“So!?”

“I…” Sirius trailed off, obviously trying to think how best to explain it, before he settled on looking at Harry, who had calmed down significantly and was now near asleep in Lily’s arms. Looking down at her son herself, Lily immediately understood what Sirius was saying, and she knew James did too when she heard him deflate.

“Right. Fifteen months ago,” her husband murmured in soft understanding as he too recalled the birth of their son.

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, “I was looking for any information I could find on anything that Voldemort might be interested in. Thought it might give us an edge.”

“That’s how you were able to tell what Rosier had been doing with that Veela blood,” Lily suddenly realised, recalling the incident where Sirius had circumvented the Death Eater’s attempt to drain the alluring race’s power for himself with an extremely archaic ritual. Now that she thought about it, there were a few other instances she remembered where Sirius had volunteered Dark information during Order meetings or when working on a case. They had managed to foil several Death Eater plots using the intelligence he had provided.

Sirius nodded, “Yep. It was worth going back there just for that… but then I found the ritual. Arcturus actually helped me set it up, you know.”

“What?” Lily said in shock.

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, “Turns out he’s not actually that impressed by Voldemort and his methods. Especially seeing as how he murdered his grandson and thereby killed off the future of the House through the male line.”

Lily noted in concern that Sirius didn’t use Regulus’ name, but eventually surmised that he was trying to distance the memory of his brother and his fate from this particular instance so as to remain objective. She knew that the Black brothers had never been close, and had been polar opposites in terms of character, values and thought processes, but Regulus had still been Sirius’ younger brother, and the latter was likely affected by his death. Especially as he believed it to have been on Voldemort’s orders.

“We’re getting off track,” James’ announcement brought Lily out of her musings. “Padfoot, you said the spell wasn’t supposed to do anything other than protect someone you loved? Is it possible that it killed Voldemort by, I don’t know, rebounding his attack or something?” He paused before adding, slightly upset, “And while we’re on that, can you please tell us why you were screaming like you were under the Cruciatus – which, by the way, I’ve heard you under before, and even _then,_ you didn’t scream like _that!_ ”

Before Sirius answered, Lily saw him dart an anxious look in her direction, which she recognised as a plea for her to not tell James about the torture Voldemort had put him under _just_ _prior_ to his attack on her and Harry – which, much to her shame, she had forgotten about in the midst of everything else. Instead of reassuring him of her silence, however, Lily just held his gaze, thereby not making a promise she mightn’t be able to keep. Clearly seeing that on her face, Sirius looked resigned as he answered James questions.

“It’s called the _Anima Integumentum_ warding ritual. It’s dangerous magic, and considered Dark because… well, because, historically, the Shielder often doesn’t survive when they call upon the shield – even if it does work, which it often doesn’t either, according to the book.”

Lily felt a myriad of emotions flood through her at that declaration. The strongest of which were relief; both that the spell had worked, and that Sirius had survived, and love. Love for the man who had taken such a chance to save her and her family. Love for the man who, along with Remus and Peter, her husband informed her that she was also marrying when she had proposed to him. Love for the man who she too had begun to see as something of a brother, though she had yet to tell him.

Looking at James, she could tell that he was feeling something very similar, although there was also fear at what had almost happened. It was enough to make her give a small smile, as James was always worrying after his fellow Marauders, panicking about what sorts of dangers they could be in.

…Unless he was with them, of course. Then he would gladly get into all kinds of dangerous and idiotic situations with them and do his damnedest to turn Lily’s blood red hair grey. (Lily had always privately wondered if it was the stress of his werewolf transformations, that had given Remus his first grey hairs, or if it was him worrying after his friends.)

“And because of it’s less than impressive success rate – not to mention its illegality – it isn’t a commonly used spell, even among the Darker families. That means that no one really knows anything about it, so I suppose it is completely possible that it could have rebounded the killing curse, like you suggested James… but…”

“But that effect on Voldemort wasn’t exactly typical of the _Avada_ ,” James finished, then paused in consideration. “Do you think he’s… Do you think he’s actually… dead?”

 _Yes,_ Lily thought immediately, remembering the way he had combusted into smoke in front of her. She had seen it when the curse meant for her flew back from Sirius’ shield, and she knew that it had made contact with the self-acclaimed Dark Lord. _But… also no,_ she continued as she also recalled seeing one ghostly tendril flee from their house – smashing their window as it escaped into the Halloween night.

It was difficult to believe, either way. Voldemort; the person they had been fighting for so long, who had brought chaos to England by instigating a blood war filled with bigotry, hate and who had divided families over political views, was either dead or near it. Especially when one considered the fact that he hadn’t been done in by a carefully planned Order raid, or in the midst of a battle, but rather by an unintentional spell backfire in his unsuspecting target’s kitchen. Yes, it was quite surreal if one thought about it for too long, Lily decided.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lily looked at Sirius in surprise as his tone turned urgent. “You three need to leave. The Death Eaters are still out there, and regardless of whether Voldemort is really dead or not, you’re still a target for them. Who knows how many people Peter told the Secret to. No, you need to go deep into hiding for a while.”

“The Order can-”

“No,” Sirius didn’t hesitate in cutting Lily off, “We can’t know who to trust at the moment and trying to contact the Order would be incredibly risky.” He sighed, “I wish Remus was here.”

“OK,” James acquiesced with a nod, the complete faith he had in his friend shared by Lily. “We’ll go to Lily’s parents’ house.” He looked to her, “They left it to you and I doubt anyone will ever think that we’ve gone there, not since… well,” his face turned apologetic and she grimaced, remembering the fate of her parents.

“You three go, then.”

James levelled Sirius with a _look_ , “ _And_ you’re coming with us.”

Sirius just shook his head, much to both James and Lily’s frustration, “I can’t. Not now. Someone has to make sure the Order knows what happened, and… and someone… someone has to find Wormtail.”

Lily felt something tighten in her chest at the reminder of betrayal. A part of her wanted to deny it, not willing to believe that the quiet, plump boy she had gone to school with, who was never seen far from James or Sirius’ sides, who had befriended her in her seventh year along with the other Marauders, and who she had trusted unreservedly with the safety of her family, was the traitor who had sold them out to Voldemort and had almost gotten everyone she loved killed. She couldn’t _imagine_ what James and Sirius must have feeling; the boys who had shared a supposedly unbreakable bond with the rat for the last decade.

James swallowed thickly, obviously trying not to think about the treachery of one of his closest friends, “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone, Padfoot. Not after what just happened. There’s too much that could go wrong.”

Sirius nodded at his friend, “I know. But just… trust me. You need to get out of here, and I can’t go with you yet. Besides,” he huffed a humorous laugh, “Someone has to stage the crime scene so that in five hours I can crash my bike in the middle of the street and have a breakdown among the muggles.”

Lily inhaled at the description, thinking for the first time about what it must have been like for Sirius to see their house looking like he had described before Voldemort had shown up. She knew the pain of finding friends dead – almost everyone did in these dark times – and she was more than aware that Sirius did too, but Lily also knew that for it to be _this_ house… _this_ murder… well, she could only imagine what it would have been like for him. Looking at James, she wasn’t surprised to see worry and devastation for what his friend had suffered prior to saving them adorning his face.

“I’ll come and find you when I’m sure it’s safe,” Sirius said placatingly, “If I’m not there in two months-”

“-One month,” Lily cut him off firmly, “If you haven’t made contact in one month then we’re coming out and finding you. And, Sirius Black, if you feel like you are in any real danger at any point, then you will drop whatever heroic commitments you feel you have to the Light and come and join us, because I swear I’ll find out if you don’t and I’ll send James out to hunt you down and drag you back with him – unless I’m in a bad mood, or you _really_ piss me off, in which case I’ll do it myself.”

“But-”

“No arguments!” James exclaimed with Lily.

Obviously seeing the firm resolve on each of the Potters’ faces as he glanced between the two of them imploringly, Sirius sighed in defeat.

“Fine, it shouldn’t take that long anyway.”

There was silence for a moment, as everyone knew the conversation was coming to an end, but none of them wanted to admit it; to split up so soon after what had just happened. Lily could hardly bear the thought of leaving Sirius here, especially with the Death Eaters still being a threat. She knew without looking that James’ features would be tight with worry and displeasure at what he would see as abandoning his brother.

“Are you sure-”

“James, get out of here.” Sirius immediately cut his friend off, knowing that he was about to try and convince him to come with them after all. Lily herself had to bite back a plea, and instead went in to hug the man who had just saved her family – who was a _part_ of her family – once more, manoeuvring Harry so Sirius could say… not goodbye, she reminded herself, but something far more temporary.

When she finally pulled back onto her knees, she caught his grey eyes and mouthed the most sincere _“Thank you”_ she had ever given, knowing that he would object if she spoke it out loud. Realising what she was doing, he nodded in acknowledgement and returned a small, tired smirk that was more reminiscent of a smile, before being distracted by James’ hand as Lily’s husband pulled him to his feet. She watched as the two men, lifelong best friends and brothers of a bond she didn’t think anyone but a twin could understand, stared at each other for a moment, holding an entire conversation with just their eyes. But the moment broke when James abruptly pulled Sirius into the fiercest hug Lily had ever seen, the shorter man reciprocating just as tightly while they whispered into each other’s ears.

 _“Thank_ you.”

“Always, James.”

They stepped back, but still held onto each other, before both finally letting go.

“Don’t die like a dumbass out there, Padfoot.”

Sirius laughed for the first time Lily had seen him that day, which eased something in her chest that she hadn’t realised had been wound up after seeing him be tortured. He then smirked, “I won’t if you won’t. See you soon, Prongs, Lils.”

James led the way towards the busted up front door, but just before he exited the house, he suddenly stopped and turned, while Lily waited for her husband to say one last thing.

“Sirius… be careful out there, and… I do trust you. More than anyone. Just thought I’d make sure you know.”

And after one last smile of farewell, James left the house, Lily following with Harry and they walked away from their home that was now a crime scene, leaving behind their best friend who had just saved them and had perhaps even somehow killed Voldemort. When they were finally far enough away to apparate without the hindrance of wards, Lily sent a prayer of thanks to any deity listening and hoped that everything would be OK and that Sirius would find them soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Alastor Moody growled in fury as he listened to a wailing Hagrid’s recollection of what he had seen at the Potters’ house less than an hour before and glared into nothing. He was aware of Albus and Minerva’s wary glances, being the paranoid bastard that he was, and he knew that the only other two present weren’t expecting such a strong, imminent reaction from him.

“Alastor?” Minerva questioned, voice tight in the face of the horror of Hagrid’s revelation, while the man himself sobbed at the Potters’ fates.

“James and Lily were under a Fidelius,” he growled in a clipped voice, trying to keep his head in the game. _Sirius._ “Black was their Secret Keeper, wasn’t he Albus.”

The usual twinkle in the ancient wizard’s blue eyes that Alastor usually found so damn annoying was absent as the Leader of the Light answered gravely, “I’m afraid so, Alastor.”

Minerva gasped, “You aren’t suggesting-!?”

“He’s the only one who could have done it!” Alastor snapped, fighting the sense of betrayal and loss at the realisation that _Black_ had been a Death Eater the whole time – right under his nose! “Potter trusted him above all others!”

“Sirius would _never_ betray us – and he’d _certainly_ never betray the Potters!” Minerva tried to deny.

“Hagrid’s story proves otherwise!” Alastor yelled back.

“Enough!” Albus cut them both off sharply, before turning to Alastor expectantly. After a moment of glaring at Minerva, he responded to Albus’ silent request.

“Even though Hagrid didn’t find any bodies, the presence of the Dark Mark means that they’re dead or as good as. Voldemort wouldn’t bother keeping them alive for long, so I expect their missing state means that he played with them a bit before killing them,” Alastor ignored Minerva’s sob and did his best to keep his own mind professional and detached. “If Black was the Secret Keeper, which we know he was, then he gave them up willingly. Neither veritaserum nor the Imperious can be used to retrieve Fidelius locations and Black’s too strong-willed to give into torture. His occlumency is too good for it to have been taken from his mind, either.”

“I can’t believe it,” Minerva muttered, shaking her head and withholding tears.

“Alas, we knew there was a traitor among us,” Albus said sadly. “It is most unfortunate that the bonds of friendship were not enough to overcome the allure of power in this case.”

Alastor barely stopped himself from snarling at that. _Black. **Black.**_

_Sirius._

How had he missed it!? How had been fooled by the smirking youth he’d trained as a Hit Wizard!? The crazy idiot who was ruthless in his pursuit of justice and would do anything for his friends? The man he’d been so relieved to see return alive after he had been captured by Death Eaters? The fighter whose work in the Order had had him undertaking missions that would have been difficult even for an Auror and who Alastor had planned on promoting to such as soon as he could do it officially? The legend among the rookies who’d turned his back on his family’s wealth, power and bigoted, elitist beliefs?

He, Alastor Moody, renowned Auror, member of the Order of the Phoenix and paranoid bastard, had been taken in by Sirius Black, and now the Potters were dead. They were now just the latest on the list of casualties the Order had suffered because of the traitor who had been nameless for over a year. And he’d never forgive himself.

But, he’d do his job and catch the son of a bitch now.

“We need to catch Sirius Black, and also do our best to discover the fates that befell the Potters, if we can,” Albus ordered, echoing Alastor’s own promise, and Alastor disapparated to give his squad their new task: catching one of their own.

\---------------

It had only taken two days for Sirius to catch up to Peter. Somehow, he’d thought that the revelation that he didn’t know Peter as well as he’d thought would make it more difficult for him to find the rat. But it turned out that, despite how grossly he had misjudged his once friend’s courage and loyalty, everything he recalled about Peter’s habits, and the way he thought, was accurate. Sirius wasn’t sure if that made Wormtail’s betrayal worse.

 _We should have seen it. **I** should have seen it, _Sirius thought, trying unsuccessfully to let his bitterness and anger squash any feelings of sadness he harboured. Peter didn’t deserve his pain. He had _betrayed_ them – betrayed the bond of family that had tied him to the rest of the Marauders, and then to Lily and Harry. He’d betrayed the Light, the Order and wizard-kind by spying for Voldemort. He’d betrayed everything that he had claimed to stand for; equality, justice, freedom.

He’d betrayed Wormtail – or who Wormtail had once been. He’d turned his back on the person that Sirius had trusted and loved and admired. On the boy that had smuggled food to Remus when he’d been stuck in the hospital wing after that particularly rough transformation in fourth year. On the friend who gave James such an encouraging speech before his first Quidditch game, when he’d been more than a little nervous. On the brother who had once unknowingly stopped Sirius from jumping off the astronomy tower with just his desire to hang out.

It was this difficulty to reconcile one of his closest friends with a man who had sold James, Lily and little Harry out to Voldemort that caused the sadness Sirius struggled to control. He was still doing his best to link the concept of Peter to the images he had burned into his brain of the Dark Mark, Benjy’s mutilated body, the McKinnon household, and, of course, the very recent addition of the scene from Godric’s Hollow.

But those images were enough. Sirius didn’t _understand,_ but he _knew._ He knew what Peter had done, and no memories of brotherhood were enough to deter Sirius from his task of bringing the rat in.

Sirius had been planning on going straight to the Order after he had staged the crime scene at Godric’s Hollow, but he’d remembered that he couldn’t do anything until the other him had gone back in time. Not if he didn’t want to risk the space-time-continuum. So he’d waited in the shadows for almost five hours, until he witnessed a desperate Sirius Black crash his motorcycle in the middle of the street. He had watched the events from earlier play out from a short distance, until the past him ran off behind a house, leaving a very bewildered muggle man standing by his motorcycle. He had then waited a minute, just to be sure, before strolling over to the man, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin, picking up his motorcycle and driving off.

It was in those hours of waiting that Sirius had thought about everything, including his plan, but more particularly; Peter. Whatever else Peter was, he’d always been good and hiding and laying low, _just like a rat,_ and if Sirius was going to find him, he’d need to start chasing his leads quickly, before Peter caught on that his cover was blown. Sitting in the shadows and watching the evening turn to night, Sirius had come to the realisation that going to the Order for help would not be such a good idea, as they all thought him to be the Potter’s Secret Keeper, and therefore a Death Eater and traitor.

He could have proved his innocence to them simply enough ( _if_ they didn’t curse him on sight), but since they would’ve had no reason to suspect Peter, clearing his name among them would have resulted in Peter – as a trusted member of the Order - being alerted to the fact that his cover was blown, and then he’d be near impossible to track down. The only person who might have believed him unconditionally was neck-deep in his role as a spy among the werewolf packs, and Sirius wasn’t even sure if Remus _would_ have believed him if he’d claimed that _Wormtail_ was the traitor. No, Sirius had had to go alone _,_ and he had had to go _then_ if he hadn’t wanted the trail to go cold. He’d be able to explain the entire situation to the Order once he brought Peter in.

Which brought him to a dark alley, two days later, standing behind a box in his Grim animagus form, and watching a shifty Peter Pettigrew as he fidgeted slightly near the exit, unaware that he was being observed. Following Peter’s trail would have taken anyone else, even James and Remus, much longer, if they were able to find him at all, but Sirius had always been adept at tracking as a Hit Wizard and soldier for the Order, and the things he knew about Peter meant that it hadn’t taken him long at all to figure out which trails he should investigate.

It seemed as though Peter was planning on hiding out in the muggle world. Clever, really. It would be incredibly difficult for anyone magical to find him once he was in the much larger and quite alien muggle cities. Especially considering his status as an animagus was unknown to almost everyone – and even if everyone knew, the cities were so large they could literally search for years without catching any glimpse of him. Although, it wasn’t Peter’s style to stay hidden among the muggles for the rest of his life. He’d want to keep informed of the happenings of magical Britain, so he’d likely figure out some way to hide within their world.

It didn’t matter either way, because Sirius had found him before he could disappear. He knew that Peter would be aware that Sirius would hunt him down for betraying Lily and James. A part of him wished to kill Peter for his betrayal, but it was small and superseded by the larger parts of him that wanted him alive for the logically tactical reason of information, and the part that still saw Peter as a brother and wanted beyond anything for this to turn out to all be some mistake.

The desire to take Peter in alive was what led to Sirius transforming into a man again, so he would be able to stun his once friend and take him in. As his Grim form melted into a crouching man with intense, grey eyes and long, raven hair, Peter twitched and turned to face him.

Knowing he’d been made, Sirius stepped out from behind the box, his wand loose in his hand so as to not startle the rat. He was confident enough in his reflexes to know that he would be able to take Peter down if he went for his own wand. No, the real issue would be ensuring he didn’t switch to his rat form and disappear out the alley and into the street.

“Sirius, w-what are you doing here?” Peter wrung his wrists, obviously scared of what he knew Sirius was there for but hoping to play innocent. The sight disgusted Sirius.

“Hello Peter,” Sirius replied, trying to keep his voice even and absent of the betrayal that resurfaced, “I’m just here for a chat.”

Peter tried to sneak a glance around, looking for some way to escape unhindered, no doubt.

“O-oh?”

“Yes, Wormy. I want to talk about why you betrayed us; why you sold out your friends to Voldemort,” Peter flinched at the name, but Sirius continued regardless, “And then I want you to come back with me, so you can tell the rest of the Order everything you’ve ever done for the enemy.”

“I didn’t want to!” Peter cried pathetically, “The Dark Lord; he made me! Please, Sirius, my friend, you have to understand! You have to believe me! You know what it’s like, living with your family – the _power_ they have at their disposal-!”

“Don’t you _dare_ try to justify yourself like that!” Sirius yelled, his temper finally snapping, before he calmed himself with a breath, and his rage receded into a smoulder, “There’s no excuse for what you did, Peter. _No excuse.”_

Obviously seeing the sincerity in Sirius’ words, Peter suddenly turned into a rat and bolted out the alley. Sirius saw what he was about to do a moment before he transformed, but the _stupefy_ he sent to arrest him missed by mere millimetres. He ran out the alley in pursuit, determined not to let Peter get away, and soon found himself in the middle of a street, teeming with innocent, muggle bystanders. _This is bad,_ Sirius realised, before his attention was drawn to Peter, who – surprisingly - stood in the middle of the street.

He just had time to realise that Peter must have been banking on the Statute of Secrecy to protect himself from Sirius, before Peter began shouting – breaking that notion.

“Why did you do it, Sirius?! How could you betray Lily and James; our friends!?” Peter’s voice was loud and desperate, attracting the attention of many of the muggles in the street. Sirius was startled, to say the least, before realising what Peter was doing – framing him. Sirius was about to stun him, Statute of Secrecy be damned, but Peter’s next move was too horrific and bold for him to have _ever_ predicted of his once friend.

He saw Peter pull out a knife and _sever his own finger_ before pulling out his wand. Sirius didn’t understand the move; was completely surprised by it – and it was that surprise which cost him. He still subconsciously expected Peter to try and run, or to at least throw a spell at him. What he wasn’t expecting, was for the rat to point his wand just behind him and lowly scream, _“Bombarda maxima!”_

He wasn’t expecting it, but Sirius – with his instincts cultivated from years of abuse, and time as a Marauder, a Hit Wizard, a prisoner of war, and a soldier – still _reacted._

All he was really aware of was the fact that there were about forty innocents standing behind Peter; forty innocents who were about to be killed. So, with a surge of magic borne from years of intense magical training and reflexes from the entirety of his life, Sirius threw a shield or a spell or a barrier, or whatever it was, in an effort to contain as much of the blast as possible, mitigating the damage and preventing any casualties. He didn’t know if he’d cast the spell aloud, or even if it was a real spell. Perhaps it was a bastardised version, or a Frankenstein shield – he didn’t really know, all he knew was that it had to succeed or more lives would be lost to Peter Pettigrew.

So it did succeed.

Sirius was blown backwards in a wave of intense heat as Peter’s spell, blocked from travelling backwards, blew _up_ instead. A column of magical fire burst upwards and around Peter in an explosion that hugged the edges of the street, barely missing the closest civilians, who were also blasted back and away, falling onto the street or hitting buildings.

Ears ringing, and body abused from the explosion and scraping across the bitumen in landing, Sirius eventually sat up and watched as the smoke dissipated from the area Peter had been standing. He could hear people screaming in terror and alarms blaring, as he looked at the scorched place where his once friend had stood just a moment ago. A few feet away from him, a blackened, fat but familiar arm was lying in street, having been blown away from the explosion.

It was that sight that caused Sirius to break down. His head swarming with blackness (which could no doubt be attributed to a head injury) and the shock from the last few minutes finally kicking in, Sirius began to chuckle. A crazed, mad, _insane_ chuckle that soon grew to outright laughter as he looked at all that remained of Wormtail, his friend, brother and fellow Marauder. There were sobs interspersed with that too, and soon he had tears streaming down his face, his emotions overloading and his body unsure how, exactly, to respond.

He lay there like that in the street, for the next fifteen minutes, laughing and crying while he listened to the devastated chaos around him as the muggles panicked over what they had just seen in their street. He only stopped when, after those fifteen minutes, he was hit by three different _stupefies_ from the wands of the Aurors and Hit Team who had been sent to the scene.


	8. Chapter 8

_Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap._

James agitatedly drummed his fingers on the dining table in the late Mr and Mrs Evans’ house and stared out the window, hoping to see the familiar figure of his best friend appear.

_Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap._

It had been three weeks since their house had been invaded by Voldemort and they’d parted ways with Sirius, and James had spent the whole time in a state of complete nervousness.

_Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap._

Something was wrong. He just knew it. Lily knew it too, although he could tell she was trying to convince herself it was just because they had no idea what was going on. James was aware that that was a logical assumption to make, considering their natures, but he still wasn’t persuaded.

_Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptap._

James just wished Sirius would show up. He was worried about his best friend, especially after what had happened… after hearing him when he scr-

James shook his head angrily to get the thought out of his head. He was just overreacting. Paranoia. That’s all it was. Sirius was fine. He wasn’t considered a legend among the Hit Wizards for nothing, and James knew that Moody was just itching to move him up into the Auror ranks as soon as possible. Sirius was entirely capable of looking after himself, and his duelling capability and knowledge of Dark spells and tactics was almost unparalleled, curtesy of his family and upbringing.

James looked out into the suburban morning again and sighed. But what if he _wasn’t_ alright? What if something had happened? They had no way of knowing what was going on out there; they were completely cut off from the wizarding world, and not knowing was driving him and Lily both crazy.

“James,” Lily’s determined voice had him glancing over to the sofa where he hadn’t noticed her playing with Harry.

“Yes?”

Lily sighed, with a small frown and shifted as though preparing herself, “Look, I know we said we’d wait a month – and I know I’m probably being paranoid – but I- I think something…”

“You think something’s wrong, too?” James asked her sharply.

Lily blinked, “Yes, I thought I was just… Anyway, I have a feeling that something’s happened. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m worried. About the Order and about… about _Sirius,_ which is stupid, because _of_ _course_ Sirius is fine, but…”

James looked at her as she trailed off, and suddenly his own paranoia seemed a lot more valid, “Me too.”

Lily looked at him, seeming both relieved and nervous that he felt the same, which he understood completely. It was both a relief to know that his instincts may not be playing up, and nerve-wracking because if something had happened…

“James, I think we should go and find Sirius,” Lily said in resolute voice, one that was not to be argued with and that James always loved hearing.

“Lily-Flower, I think that might be a good idea,” he responded and tried to ignore the tumultuous emotions flaring in his belly, at the realisation that his worry might not be as unfounded as he’d hoped.

\---------------

_(Three weeks ago)_

Sirius came to, lying on a freezing, dark, stone floor, with his body stiff, weak and aching, and unable to dispel the sick feelings of terror, horror and hopelessness that crashed through his mind, following him from his torrid nightmares about his life. He immediately began to retch, but the only thing to come up was bile, which burned through his throat. Sirius felt himself completely weaken, and tried to roll away, but found himself falling over with the sound of the clanging chains which had impeded the movement. He collapsed, barely avoiding the puddle of bile, and began trembling violently from what he supposed was a combination of the cold, his physical condition and shock.

**_“Crucio!”_ ** _The pain was intense took him completely by surprise. He knew his mother hated him, but he’d never expected-_

Sirius forcefully drew himself out of the memory that had assaulted him and tried not to vomit again. Where was he? What the _hell_ was that? What had happened? Had he been captured again?

The sense of dread and hopelessness had returned, but now that Sirius had something to focus on, he was slightly less affected. _Have I been captured again?_ Concentrating on the need to find an answer to that question, Sirius tried to stop his shaking while he properly took in his surroundings.

He was in a tiny, dark, wet, room, that was obviously supposed to function as a cell of some description, and which was barely large enough for him to stand or lay in, as he was doing now. In fact, Sirius suspected that if he stretched, he’d be able to touch either end of the longest part of the room. It was difficult to discern if the cell had corners and edges or not, as there was just dark, grey stone, above, below and around him. The only variance in the room was a crude set of steps that lead up to a dark, heavy wooden door with iron nails and a little metal porthole that was far too high for Sirius to see out of, a tiny slit in the wall near Sirius serving as a window, a bucket that Sirius had missed before and whose purpose he didn’t really want to think about, and the thick, heavy chains keeping him attached to the cell. There was no light coming in from the window, so Sirius guessed that it was night, but he could see a spray of water and hear the sound of waves crashing on rocks.

_Where the **hell** am I being kept!?_

It was the sounds of the waves and the hopeless, isolation they represented that, more than anything, caused Sirius to slip into the next memory.

_“Mother says you’re going to be disowned,” Regulus’ apathetic voice caught Sirius’ attention._

_“Probably,” he replied nonchalantly. He honestly didn’t care what his mother said at this point, she’d been going on about how he was a disappointment for years, but Regulus had never talked about it before. He was almost scared to hear what his eleven-year-old brother was going to say next._

_“You shouldn’t be so friendly with the mudbloods, Sirius. You’re bringing shame to the family,” it was the certain, accusing tone, that hurt the most. Sirius pushed the pain of rejection from someone who he had hoped to never be rejected by somewhere deep and far away, before pulling up a smirk and retorting._

_“I consider that an accomplishment. It’s pretty hard to bring shame to a family with such disgusting values, after all.”_

_“Are you saying that because Mother and Father hate you? Because, Mother said that she hates you because you’re a disgrace to the family, so it’s your own fault they hurt you, you know.”_

-Sirius wrenched himself free, but the emotions associated with the memory remained, along with the depressing hopelessness. He still didn’t know where he was. The freezing temperature and the immersive memories were almost familiar… but he couldn’t quite…

_Chunks of burnt flesh that had once been Benjy, ditched in the snow in an alley. The sound of James retching just behind him, while he stared stonily at the remains of his friend. The smell would be worse, but Sirius knew that the cold preserved the flesh. Even as he thought it, there was a rat was crawling towards what looked like a finger…_

_Chunks of burnt flesh. A rat._

**Peter had betrayed them and blown himself sky high… or was that Sirius?**

Dementors. That’s what the sensation was.

Which was bad. Very bad. Really, very bad.

A lot of the dementors had gone over to Voldemort after he’d made some kind of deal with them that allowed them to feed on muggles as much as they wanted.

**Voldemort killed James and Lily and Harry, but then Sirius saved them, didn’t he?**

Was he in some Death Eater dungeon? He wouldn’t put it past most of his enemies to have a dungeon like this.

But why would they have one out in the ocean?

The only place like this he knew of was-

Oh. _Oh._ Shit. Shit shit shit, was he in _Azkaban_!? Had the ministry lost control of the _prison_!? Oh, that was really bad. All the Death Eaters that the DMLE, the Order and _he_ had managed to capture alive were in Azkaban, and if Voldemort had taken control of it, then…

**Voldemort was dead. Or wasn’t dead. He was gone…? Wasn’t he?**

…All the prisoners would be free, and the Death Eaters would have access to an impenetrable fortress that it was impossible to escape from. The only way to get in and out of Azkaban is with the blessing of its wardens, the dementors.

As if an alliance between them and Voldemort wasn’t bad enough on its own. Now, the Death Eaters were in control of the closest thing to hell on Earth.

**Voldemort’s dead. He tried to kill Lily, James and Harry but Sirius stopped him. Peter tried to blow up a street, but Sirius stopped him. Peter and Voldemort are dead. James, Remus, Lily and Harry are _alive_.**

**…Right?**

\---------------

Sirius wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He kept slipping into memories which disorientated him, and the only way he had of telling time was the sky, which so far had barely lightened. He wasn’t sure if that was because less time had passed than he thought, or because the sun was unable to penetrate the depressing gloom of the prison in the middle of the ocean with its dementor wardens.

He had had horrible dreams about parts of his life he would rather forget, and also a few about a dementor coming in with bread and water. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined that or not, because while he was starving and parched, he knew that he’d most likely be dead if he hadn’t drunk something yet. Although, he had no reliable recollection of having done so.

Sirius was mostly surprised by that fact that he hadn’t seen any Death Eaters yet. If they had taken him prisoner, like he thought, he would have expected them to come and question him sooner rather than later. It was no secret that he was a target for them, as he had one of the highest Death Eater take-down rates and was a known member of the Order. It was also no secret that he was very much hated among the Death Eaters for being a blood traitor of the worst kind; the once _heir_ to the House of _Black_.

Perhaps they were trying to break him slowly by making him stew in his own worst experiences. He had to admit that this technique was far more effective than the straight Cruciatus session he had experienced the last time he was captured, but they’d still have to do far better than that if they wanted to get anything out of him.

_Creeeaaaak… Bang!_

Sirius barely had the energy to lift his eyes, from where he was slumped in his cell, at the sound of the door opening. The sight of two human silhouettes in the door frame was enough for him to muster a smile. It seemed they were done waiting. _Show time._

“It’s him,” the deep, male voice was filled with a concoction of rage and glee, but there was something… almost familiar about it that gave Sirius pause.

“Are you sure?” The other voice was higher and sounded almost anxious in cruel anticipation.

“Yeah,” the first responded, “yeah, I’d recognise that evil prick anywhere.”

The other nodded, “Good. Looks like this shitty post is finally going to pay out.”

 _“Crucio!”_ Not expecting the torture to begin at that moment, Sirius writhed, and a scream was half-pulled from his throat. After a full ten seconds the pain cut off, and the first voice addressed him with pure hate, “How do you like that, Black? How do you like torture when you’re on the other end of the wand?! _Crucio!_ ”

 _Pain. Pain, pain._ But not like anything he hadn’t had before. This time Sirius was silent as his muscles spasmed. The spell was held for far longer than the first one.

“He’s not feeling it; he’s too used to it. _CRUCIO!”_ The second voice chimed in, and it was like the voltage had been turned up. Sirius couldn’t do more than gasp as he felt his nerves shock with a vivid, acute fire and his mind flood with electricity. The spells, like the two men themselves, were almost feeding off each other as they grew in intensity the longer they were held. Sirius could _feel_ the hate that was flaying him, somewhere that wouldn’t leave a mark. Eventually Sirius became aware of the taunts and vicious comments that they were spitting at him as they held the curse and he pushed past his agony just enough to absorb what they were saying.

“-traitor! You deserve the Kiss for what you did to the Potters!”

_…What…..?_

“-laughing behind our backs all this time! My son looked up to you! He was always talking about the older pranksters in Gryffindor who protected the younger kids, but you’re nothing more than Black scum!”

The familiarity of the voice struck him again, somewhere in the back of his mind, and Sirius was finally able to recognise it. He sounded like Ben Simmons, a younger kid who Sirius had looked out for in school. He’d be a sixth year now. Or he would have been, if he hadn’t been murdered trying to defend his muggle mother a few months ago in a Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley.

_(Ben, I’m so, so sorry.)_

_But why would Ben’s dad…? And why are they angry about James, Lily and Harry? On behalf of them?_ Sirius felt something terrible begin to bloom somewhere deep inside him. A kind of horror that he hadn’t felt in a long time; that suggested that he wasn’t resisting _Death_ _Eaters._

**They’re alive. It wasn’t your fault and they’re alive. You’re innocent and they’re alive.**

But Sirius had seen the house, and hadn’t James wanted him to be the Secret Keeper?

**They’re alive, and Peter’s dead because he betrayed them.**

Are they? Peter was Sirius’ suggestion. ARE THEY ALIVE!?

**Aren’t they alive!?**

The pain didn’t lessen in its rage, but the intensity died down.

“Hang on, Simmons, stop!” The second voice called out, almost reluctantly, and if Sirius was able to think coherently he would have realised that he had stopped his half of the Cruciatus. As it was, all he was aware of was his own tormenting thoughts, while the pain turned into white noise.

“WHY!?” The rage fill voice snarled, obviously not ready to let up, “This BASTARD deserves it! You know he does-! You know what he is; what he’s done! He’s the Dark Lord’s _right_ - _hand_ _man_! It’s his fault!” The power behind the torture curse rapidly rose as he spoke, and Sirius was unable to process anything else until it was abruptly cut off, and he was left twitching like a dying insect on the floor.

“If you go too hard on him now then he’ll end up like Frank Longbottom and his wife after the Lestranges got at them two days ago-” The voice placated but the mention of Frank and Alice was enough to snap Sirius back into awareness. He felt his blood chill; he knew what the Lestranges were capable of – especially Bella – and whatever had happened… it didn’t sound good. They had a son, only a day older than Harry. He hoped, more than anything, that they were all alright, “-and then he won’t be useful anymore.”

There was a mulish silence, until the second voice tried again.

“We need him alive and able to think until he’s given the names of every Death Eater he knows and then he’ll be Kissed, just like he deserves.”

There was another pause until Simmons growled, reluctantly acquiescing, “Fine. Fine, but I-”

“As long as we don’t drive him completely insane, we might as well work on loosening his tongue…”

Sirius heard the voices drift off and the door closed with a bang. He lay there on the cold, grey, stone floor, twitching due to abused nerve endings and with his mental defences shattered, until he succumbed to the effects of Azkaban once more.


	9. Chapter 9

Remus Lupin was a wreck. He was more than aware of that fact as he sat on a chair in the outskirts of Dedalus Diggle’s living room and stared at his hands. No one had tried to approach him for hours, which he was grateful for, because as much as he didn’t want to be left alone to his current thoughts, he hated the idea of talking to people even more. Not right now…

He’d first heard it through a rumour. Remus had been deep undercover in Fenrir Greyback’s pack when he’d heard the news as it was announced to them all that the Dark Lord Voldemort had been missing for two weeks along with the Potters. There had been a fair bit of chaos in the pack at that revelation, which was lucky for him because it allowed him to sneak away without consequence despite his less than covert state. The only thing running through his mind was the need to get back, along with an endless stream of _‘JamesLilyHarryJamesLilyHarry’._

He had prayed and hoped and begged and pleaded and bargained for it to not be true; for James, Lily and Harry to all be safe, but when he finally made it to Dumbledore…

_(“Dumbledore, what-!? It isn’t-!? It’s not-!? Please tell me they’re alright!”_

_“Remus, my boy, I’m truly sorry, but I’m afraid the rumours are true.”)_

They were missing, but the presence of the Dark Mark at their house and the fact that they had been targeted by Voldemort so heavily mean that there was practically no hope of finding them alive. But even that wasn’t all of it.

_(“Where’s Sirius? And Peter?”_

_“…”_

_“Dumbledore, where **are** they?”_

_“Sirius has been sentenced to life in Azkaban, for betraying the Potters’ location to Voldemort and for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.”_

_“ **What!?** No, no, he would- He would **never…** He would never do that!”_

_“I am very sorry, my boy, but it is undeniable that he was the one to give away the Potters’ location. They were under the Fidelius charm and he was their Secret Keeper.”_

_“No- No, no no. He **wouldn’t-** What about Peter?”_

_“The witnesses all say that they heard him confront Sirius for betraying the Potters mere moments before Sirius created an explosion that claimed his life.”_

_“No… He wouldn’t… He **wouldn’t** …”)_

Less than a week later and Remus still didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how or why his entire life had fallen apart so fast; how he’d managed to lose all his friends – his entire _pack_ – in one sweep. He didn’t understand how or why Sirius could ever do such a thing to James, to his family, to Peter. _Why!? Sirius, WHY!?_

He had seen the looks the others gave him, when they thought he wasn’t looking. Pity for the man who had lost everything while he’d been away. Suspicion of the monster who had been friends with Sirius _Black_ and who had spent the last few weeks among Greyback’s wolves. Many were wondering if he was about to snap. He wondered that too, but not in the way they thought. He literally had nothing left to live for. The only worthwhile thing in his life had been the Marauders; James, Sirius and Peter, and then Lily and Harry.

It had been three weeks since Halloween, and Remus and half the remaining Order including Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, Emmeline Vance, Hagrid, and Dedalus Diggle, were in the latter’s home. The rest of the Order were either dead or had already left after yesterday’s… announcement? Debriefing? Those words didn’t seem right when discussing the defeat of the most dangerous Dark wizard in British history. They were even less so when they were being used to refer to the deaths of the best three people Remus had ever known, their son and the treachery of someone he would have proudly called brother less than a month ago.

Something had happened on Halloween. Everyone could feel it and Dumbledore was sure of it. Voldemort had gone off the radar, so to speak, even among his Death Eaters, as the Lestranges had hysterically claimed when they were arrested for… for what they did to Frank and Alice.

Known Death Eaters, like Lucius Malfoy, were turning up under the Imperius Curse, claiming their innocence and being exonerated because there wasn’t enough evidence to the contrary (and because they were able to make wealthy donations to the right peoples’ bank accounts). There was tense uncertainty among the scum of the world - as Mundungus Fletcher reported - as though one of the big fish in the underworld had been eaten and no one was sure who was about to take their place on the food chain.

It all came back to that Halloween night. That night where Remus had lost everyone he loved without even knowing about it. Voldemort hadn’t been seen since, and, coupled with the changes in the climate of the political world and the underworld, there were suspicions (whispered rumours from nameless sources) that the Potters had somehow managed to take out Voldemort, dying in the process. Dumbledore had sent out a recall for any of the Order not otherwise engaged to meet at the Diggle household to pool knowledge and see what they could find out about the fates of James, Lily and Harry, as well as what had become of Voldemort.

At least, that was what he had said until yesterday. Dumbledore’s spy had apparently all but confirmed the rumours to be truth. That Voldemort was dead or as good as, and that James and Lily had somehow been the cause of it. And that…

And that meant that James, Lily and Harry were more than likely dead. That meant that Sirius had killed his best friend and his family. It meant that Remus was alone. For the first time in his life, he was _truly_ alone.

\---------------

_Knock knock knock_

Remus was snapped out of his anguished heartbreak for the first time in days at the sound of the knock on the safehouse door. He, along with everyone else in the room (Moody, McGonagall, Emmeline, Diggle, Dumbledore and Hagrid), snapped his wand out, prepared with the instincts honed from the war. Only the Order should know about Diggle’s house, and everyone who was supposed to be there was there, so unless something had happened… Well, Remus knew all too well that it paid to be cautious. Constant vigilance, and all.

Moody growled, “Anyone expecting company?”

No one responded for a long moment.

“It would appear not,” Dumbledore replied calmly, and Moody growled again in displeasure.

“I’ll get it,” Diggle eventually volunteered, and he moved towards the door, pausing while the rest of the Order present shifted into a semi-circle, prepared to defend against any potentially unsavoury visitors.

The ominous knock came again, filling the tense silence with anticipation before, wand raised, Diggle opened the door…

…And James Potter was revealed, wary and wand raised in a position mirroring Remus’ own.

Remus couldn’t breathe. A flurry of emotions and thoughts cascaded through his mind (hope, love, danger, Polyjuice(?), not dead, Imperius, wrong, safe, _(Is it real or a trick? Does it matter? Yes. Who cares? Is it **real** or a **trick**?)_ ) before Remus was able to lock it all behind a tremulous dam in favour of an immediate response. He was the first to shake off his surprise it seemed, although he was oblivious to the shock around him. He didn’t even think, just stepped forward, wand still raised, so the attention of whoever was wearing James’ face was solely on him.

“Tell me something only James would know,” he snapped automatically, neither his brain nor his heart having the chance the give input. He was aware that he would likely break down, no matter what answer was given, but the question was whether it would be from sorrow or joy.

That man with the hazel eyes that were so familiar, not only in shape and colour but also in focus and determination responded immediately, “Your first ever prank on Peter was you sniffing out all the gross Bertie Botts’ Beans and leaving them for him.”

Remus immediately lowered his wand. That was… _Only_ James…

James was _alive_.

Remus didn’t remember flinging himself towards his friend. He didn’t notice the started exclamations of the others in the room. All he was aware of was the man he was embracing, whose arms were held just as tightly around him. The man – his best friend and brother – who he had thought was dead. Nothing else mattered in that instant because Prongs was _alive_.

All too soon, however, Remus had to pull back, aware that there were explanations that needed to be given and questions that needed to be answered.

“Prongs, _how_ …?” Remus trailed off in wonder, not moving more than an arm’s distance away from his friend.

“Remus, are you sure that it’s them?” Moody’s voice cut through before James could open his mouth.

“Yes,” he responded immediately, before what Moody had said sunk in, “Wait, ‘them’?”

And that was when he saw Lily behind James, carrying little Harry, a soft smile on her face. Lily. Lily and Harry. And James. Remus let loose a relieved breath of pure joy at seeing them. He knew for a fact that they were real, and he said as much to the others who, after an obligatory moment of suspicion (curtesy of the war and their dangerous positions), seemed satisfied. Looking back at James, Remus was about to ask what the _hell_ had happened, when he saw James searching for something over his shoulder, a worried frown growing more prevalent as he was unable to locate whatever it was he was looking for.

“Where’s Sirius?”

\---------------

“Where’s Sirius?”

James was barely aware of the stilling effect his perfectly reasonable question had on the Order members present. He was too busy trying to find some sign of his worryingly absent best friend. After failing once again to locate him, he repeated the question with rising panic at thoughts of why no one had answered.

“Where’s Sirius?!” He looked at Remus, then Moody, then Dumbledore, but all three seemed surprised(?) by the question. No, there was something more to it than surprise. _Something is **really** wrong._

“The traitor is in Azkaban where he belongs,” Moody finally snarled, and James felt the air freeze in his lungs. _Traitor!?_

 _“What!?”_ He whispered in horror.

 _“Azkaban!?”_ Lily shouted at the same time in disbelief. “WHY!?”

James ignored the wary looks he was receiving, instead staring down Dumbledore until he spoke.

“Lily, James, you know that the Fidelius can only be breached if the Secret Keeper willingly gives up the location of the people being protected. I’m afraid that Sirius was the spy in the Order the entire time. He betrayed you and Harry, and he unfortunately succeeded in killing Peter three weeks ago-”

“No!” James immediately denied the implication that Sirius was a spy, and only a small voice inside of him, that still hadn’t quite let go of the feelings of brotherhood associated with the rat Marauder, paused, _Peter’s dead?_ That part was easily quashed by the outrage and concern on behalf of his best friend (who _hadn’t_ betrayed them, unlike Worm- _unlike Peter_ ).

“James-” Remus began in a voice filled with grief, but James didn’t let him finish.

“No, Remus! Sirius didn’t-”

“Sirius wasn’t our Secret Keeper,” Lily’s impassioned voice cut over him fervently, and everyone froze.

“What!?” The voices of Remus, Moody and McGonagall exclaimed.

“It was his idea that we switch – he thought he’d be too obvious,” Lily continued, “So we used Peter instead.”

“But- But that means…” Remus’ voice was laced with horror and he looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“Sirius turned up on our doorstep moments before Voldemort did and saved us!” James continued, “He didn’t betray us; Peter did!”

“That can’t be right!” Diggle exclaimed suddenly, “Peter confronted Sirius in middle of a street over being the traitor moments before he was killed!”

Emmeline responded with realisation before James could, “But that has never fitted Pettigrew’s style.”

“Nor his skillset,” Moody glared at nothing as he spoke, “Pettigrew was rubbish at magic. There’s no way he could have been able to track down Black; the best Hit Wizard I’ve ever trained. We should have factored that in before!”

“Now that we’ve got that sorted,” James snarled, acerbic and already turning for the door, “can we go get him out of _Azkaban!?”_

“Wait a moment, my boy,” Dumbledore called, and James barely stopped himself from snapping at the old man. _Sirius_ was in _Azkaban!_ He had to get to him. He knew what that place did to people, especially those with terrible experiences haunting them – which Sirius had an abundance of. “We mustn’t be too hasty-”

 _“HASTY!?”_ James yelled in a burst of fury, “I’d say that locking up an innocent man was _hasty_ , Dumbledore!”

Dumbledore gave a small, sad sigh and began to try and corral James, “My boy-”

“How long has Sirius been there, Dumbledore?” Lily asked in a soft, uncompromising voice that had everyone looking at her. She stood, staring down the most powerful wizard in the world, with a such determined expression that no one doubted she would get the answer.

“Three weeks,” Emmeline replied to the other young woman present.

“Three weeks…” James repeated, aghast, before his temper took hold once more, “You left him in _hell_ for three weeks!?”

“We thought-” Diggle began, looking contrite, but was immediately cut off by Hagrid’s overemotional exclamation.

“‘M so sorry, James!” The beared man sobbed, “I though’ tha’ Sirius had been yer Secret Keeper and after I saw what’d become of yer house and then thinkin’ yeh were d-dead, I…” Hagrid’s sobs became too much for him to continue speaking, but James didn’t have time to feel sorry for his large, gentle friend when Sirius was still in Azkaban.

He turned to Moody, “We’re going to get him out. Right now.”

“James-” Dumbledore tried again.

 _“No,”_ James snarled without looking at him, “Sirius is innocent! I don’t know how you could have missed that; didn’t you question him!? We’re going to get him out now!”

Moody looked at him for a moment before nodding, “Sorry Albus, but the lad’s right. We need to talk to Black at the very least and it seems rather likely that he may have been imprisoned falsely. I don’t know how whoever questioned him missed that – in fact, _we_ should have been the ones to question him considering we thought he was a spy from _our_ order.”

Dumbledore didn’t look happy but he acquiesced with a small nod, “I will go inform the Ministry of this development. Once they clear it, we will be able to go retrieve Sirius-”

“We’re getting him out now,” James interrupted.

“I think Sirius has been there for long enough, Dumbledore,” Lily cut in swiftly but firmly when it looked like the old man was about to protest.

“Let’s go, Potter,” Moody called as he stalked out of the house.

James followed the other man immediately, only pausing briefly to turn to his wife and his best friend, “I’ll-”

“We’ll look after each other,” Lily instantly assured, “Go get him back.”

Remus just nodded, still pale with shock and horror. If he wasn’t disallowed, due to his lycanthropy, James knew that he’d be coming with him to retrieve their best friend.

After his wife and friend’s promise, James turned from the room after Moody, his only thoughts on his missing brother and he hoped desperately that whatever they found at Azkaban, they weren’t too late.


	10. Chapter 10

Albus Dumbledore had not anticipated these events.

This was rather unusual for him, as he was rather used to accurately predicting outcomes and being able to manoeuvre circumstances to suit him. He prided himself on his ability to herald the greater good without having to resort to mindless violence. Yes, sometimes sacrifices had to be made, but as of yet Albus was able to say that he had not directly caused the deaths of any innocents on the side of the Light.

It would be a shame to have to break that streak.

Albus had initially been sceptical of the prophecy that Sybill Trelawney had given in her job interview. He had always maintained that such things were too optional and vague to be useful, and he had seen more than enough to decide that the woman was a fraud, but after witnessing the descendant of Cassandra Trelawney rasp a true vision of the defeat of the Dark Lord… well, the way that events had fallen into place had swiftly convinced Albus of its legitimacy.

Severus Snape overhearing a part of the prophecy was an unanticipated boon for the Leader of the Light. The young Death Eater had reported it to his master straight away, who clearly believed it to be of some validity as he immediately began hunting the Potters, who had both ‘thrice defied him’ and who were expecting a child at the end of July, ‘as the seventh month dies’. That put the yet-unborn Potter into the place of prime candidacy of being the saviour that was spoken of, due the line about being marked an equal, and it meant that there was a greater chance of the prophecy coming true.

He suspected that the child and Tom would have to meet early on for Tom to be able to mark him as his equal, so Albus would have to ensure that that could happen somehow. It was unfortunate that it also put the young family in great risk of being killed by Tom, and he truly hoped that the young parents would survive, but he didn’t hold much hope, considering the wording of the prophecy.

And if they did die, it would provide a strong motivation for the child as he grew older and he might even be able to play on feelings of guilt, depending on how they died.

Which brought him to another unexpected gain to come out of this: Severus Snape. The young man was shrewd and cynical, a prodigy of potions, an expert on matters of Dark magic, a master Occulumens and in a prime position in the Dark Lord’s inner circle of most trusted Death Eaters. He was the perfect spy; ruthless, intelligent, talented and patient. What’s more, he was filled with guilt over inadvertently endangering the life of the only person he had ever loved: Lily Potter.

Albus had, of course, known of the Slytherin’s attachment to the bright, sweet Gryffindor during their school years. He even suspected that he had truly regretted the loss of her friendship after he had called her a Mudblood. But he had severely underestimated the deep love that he felt for the young woman. Severus had been willing to renounce his master and put himself in the incredibly precarious position of being a spy, all for the promise that Albus would ensure that Lily Potter lived. It had all worked out very well for Albus in that regard.

Unfortunately, ensuring that young Harry Potter could become the saviour who would defeat the Dark Lord had been much harder. He had, of course, warned the Potters and the Longbottoms (whose son, Neville, was another potential candidate for the prophesised child) that Tom was hunting them and that they should go into hiding, which they had done successfully for over a year.

Albus had honestly expected them to be caught sooner, despite being more than aware of the competency of both James and Lily, as Tom’s ever-increasing anger prompted him to ensure his Death Eaters searched harder and harder for the troublesome couple and their infant son. He had sent Remus Lupin on more and more missions over time, so he was nearly always unavailable to help the Potters, and he was aware that Peter Pettigrew was one of the likely candidates for the spy they had yet to root out in the Order, the others being Sirius Black (although Albus doubted that it was actually him) and Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius himself had taken on a lot of missions, both as a Hit Wizard and as an Order member, so his time was too occupied to be helping the Potters with their hiding beyond what the rest of them could afford.

But somehow the Potters had remained out of reach of Tom and his Death Eaters and Albus knew that that had to change soon if he wanted their son to become the saviour they needed. A plan involving the Fidelius Charm came to him just over a week before All Hallows’ Eve – a very auspicious time – which he decided to put into motion. The plan was for the Potters to go into deep hiding under the Fidelius, with Albus as the Secret Keeper so he could then write their location down and give it to Remus, Sirius and Peter as they would no doubt ask him to do. From there it would be a simple matter of making sure that one of their slips of paper would somehow fall into the wrong hands, and thereby prompt a confrontation between Tom and young Harry.

Unfortunately, that plan went completely awry. Oh, it was easy enough to convince the Potters to hide under the Fidelius, but he hadn’t expected his offer of being the Secret Keeper to be rejected.

_(“Dumbledore, we appreciate the offer, but I think we should use Sirius. I trust him with my life-”_

_“So do I,” Lily input quickly and James glanced at her appreciably before continuing to a shocked Albus._

_“-and besides, you already have enough on your plate with the Order and the school.”_

_“I can assure you both that it would be no trouble-” Albus tried to salvage the situation. Sirius Black was perhaps the **worst** person to be the Secret Keeper if Albus’ plan was to work. He was smart enough to know that writing the Secret down was too risky a move – especially with the traitor in their midst – and unlike Remus (who trusted Albus implicitly for allowing him to attend Hogwarts) and Peter (who was always rather weak-minded and willing to do whatever a more powerful person suggested) Sirius would not be coerced into giving Albus the Secret in writing. _

_Albus was more than aware that the young Hit Wizard – the Black Gryffindor and white sheep of his family, so to speak – was less likely to blindly trust him. He was suspicious of any authority and prone to questioning and even disobeying orders that he felt were idiotic (a trait that Moody, with his teachings of constant vigilance, was proud of in his protégé) which Albus suspected had come about due to Sirius always having to rely upon himself as a child. Albus had realised during Sirius’ years at school that Sirius was too self-reliant and had too much self-esteem for Albus to approach as a saviour and a mentor or to manipulate him into thinking that he was indebted to his headmaster._

_He was also aware of the fact that Sirius’ loyalty to his friends was extreme and unshakeable – just as Remus, James and Lily’s was – and that he had a will of iron. One only had to look at his short but majorly successful career as a Hit Wizard to see that. He was already a legend among the ranks, although many were still suspicious of him due to his last name, and it was no secret that Moody was looking for the earliest opportunity to promote him to Auror. His extensive knowledge of the Dark arts, over-exposure to torture and proficiency in Occlumency – all due to his upbringing – made him a valuable tool for the Order, but his independence of thought – which had resulted from an eclectic worldview of a variety of perspectives – meant that Albus was unable to control him as he would have liked. Not like he could control the others._

_“We know, Dumbledore,” Lily assured him, cutting off his speech and his train of thought. “But there is truly no one either of us trust more than Sirius.”_

_“Even with the safety of your family?” Albus posed the question as though he was testing them and not expressing too much doubt over Sirius’ character. It wouldn’t do for either of the Potters to become suspicious of Albus._

_“Yes,” James answered immediately and without thought, as Albus had unfortunately known he would._

_Frustrated, but knowing that he would be unable to do anything, Albus just sighed and gave the couple a twinkling, grandfatherly smile, “Then I suppose it is for the best.”_

_The Potters both returned the smile and Albus resolved to make another plan)_

The one good thing Albus had managed to obtain was the assurances of the Potters that they would have Sirius give him the Secret, so although he wouldn’t have a written copy, he would at least be able to visit them as he needed and hopefully he would be able to retain whatever influence he had with them that way. However, he’d still need a way to force the meeting of Harry and Tom that he was still certain needed to occur.

It was when he was in the midst of developing concepts of plans to draw the Potters out (he’d had the idea of a plan involving Sirius being held hostage, knowing that James would come) that Albus then received a letter that had turned everything right. It was the night that the Potters had gone under the Fidelius and as he hadn’t had the Secret revealed to him yet, he’d had no idea where they were. When an owl came with the Secret written on it, Albus was shocked to say the least. He had not expected Sirius to risk the Potters’ – who he was beyond devoted to – location by sending it through the post, but there in the young Black’s handwriting were the words that allowed him access to the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow.

Not quite believing it, Albus had cast _Finite Incantatem_ and had watched in interest as the weak disguise fell off the writing, which became that of Peter Pettigrew’s, and the Potters’ plan became clear. Sirius Black was a red herring, while the Potters’ other friend, the unexpected, innocuous Peter Pettigrew held the real Secret. This was perfect. Peter was much more susceptible to the suggestions of those he deemed more powerful and was neither sharp nor particularly careful. And now Albus had a written copy of the Potters’ location, which he could show to people if necessary.

Although, he was disturbed by the obvious implications of Peter trying to hide his identity as the Potters’ Secret Keeper. That suggested that the Potters didn’t trust him enough to keep him in the loop. Somehow, Albus thought that Sirius might have had something to do with that. It didn’t matter, though, because now he had the advantage of none of them knowing that _he_ knew who the real Secret Keeper was. He just had to find a way to get Peter to give the Secret to Death Eaters, whether accidentally or through… other, less savoury means. Obviously, he would prefer the former for someone who was on his own side, but if it was necessary for the greater good, Albus would accept the latter.

But it turned out that he didn’t have to do anything in that regard either. Albus went to Pettigrew’s flat when he knew the ex-student would be out, looking for something he could use to hold over the young man if necessary (anonymously, of course) but lo and behold he discovered instead that Pettigrew _was_ the traitor in the Order, after all. Albus wouldn’t have to do anything; Peter would betray the Potters to Tom all by himself and then after Albus would be able to organise it for him to either be caught or killed.

Or, better yet… Albus would make sure that Peter died before anyone could talk to him and then make sure that Black would take the fall for betraying the Potters. It would be likely that Sirius would be killed and thus removed from the playing field, and Albus would then have control over Harry (Lupin would not be allowed to take the boy, due to his status as a werewolf, and Alice Longbottom, the boy’s godmother, would trust that Albus knew what was best for him). If Albus played the situation right, he would then be able to groom the child and ensure that he would grow up to be the child of the prophecy, and that he would win.

As it happened, events played out wonderfully, except for one detail. Peter betrayed the Potters, leading to the confrontation that Albus had hoped for. Sirius had gone after his friend and not only did Pettigrew end up dead, but he masterfully framed Sirius for everything in front of many witnesses. Sirius’ hysterical state was fantastic for Albus, as he didn’t have to do anything to stop the Hit Wizards who’d caught him (thankfully _not_ Alastor’s team) from immediately incarcerating him in Azkaban. From there it was a simple matter of not speaking up and letting everyone assume that a trial had taken place, proving his guilt. But despite all that went right, there was still one rather significant hitch in Albus’ plan.

Harry Potter had not been in the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow when Albus sent Hagrid to collect him. The only conclusion that Albus could draw from that was after Tom had been defeated, Death Eaters had taken him along with his mother and father. That would explain the presence of the Dark Mark over the house, as well as the missing bodies. Albus had hoped that if the Potters had to die, that it would be quick, but he knew that if they had been taken it would have been long and painful. Albus had only hoped that he would be able to retrieve young Harry – who was most definitely the child of the prophecy after that night.

He had tasked Alastor, his spies and the rest of the Order to doing whatever they could to locate the Potters and retrieve Harry, but after three weeks without success, Albus had found himself losing hope. A part of him had toyed with the idea of intervening with Sirius’ imprisonment. Black was an extremely effective force as a Hit Wizard, and Albus knew without a doubt that he would be consumed with finding the brother of his heart and his family. He would be more likely than any others to be able to track down wherever the Death Eaters had taken the Potters, and between his drive and his relief at being rescued from Azkaban, Albus might finally have the opportunity to secure his confidence.

But Albus never got the chance to do more than consider that course of action as then, three weeks after All Hallows’ Eve - three weeks that had been filled with fruitless searching for the Potters; three weeks after Tom had been defeated – the Potters appeared on the doorstep of the current Order safehouse and Albus’ plans had to change again. Harry, James and Lily were all alive and well and free, and Albus knew that he had to give up the opportunity to take the prophesised child in order to still retain some influence over his upbringing. He had to appear supportive for the Potters, or he’d lose access.

But it would also be best if he took the opportunity to ensure that any other forceful agents stayed removed from the situation. Namely, Sirius Black – who Albus would no longer have the peril of his best friends to indebt him to him, and who may even feel resentment for his release from Azkaban for taking so long.

More importantly, if James Potter arrived at the prison and saw the brother of his heart, starving, abused and mad as was wont to happen to the prisoners (especially those with the darker pasts, like Black), then it was likely that Albus would lose some of his favour, particularly if Sirius blamed him as he recovered. However… if James arrived too late and Sirius was either dead or worse, _Kissed_ , Albus would be able to twist the tale. He’d be able to play on the guilt the young man would doubtlessly feel for his best friend’s suffering and death, and he’d find a way to remind the young father that it was due to his lack of trust in his old headmaster that caused it all to happen – that caused his best friend to be imprisoned as a traitor and a murderer.

Yes, it would be better for Albus and the greater good if Sirius Black could die a tragic death in the cell he was wrongly imprisoned in. Albus was very aware of that as he wrote the words that he knew would plant the self-righteous suggestion in the minds of the humans currently and temporarily stationed at Azkaban. He did feel a small twinge of guilt, as he knew that, while inconvenient, Sirius was a good man and they were on the same side, but he was able to brush it away like he usually did with the knowledge that James – and likely Lily, too - would be more pliable in the future.

In the scheme of things, one injustice was a small price to pay.


End file.
